


Mandokar

by Spc4eva



Series: Lost Amongst the Parsecs [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Big Brother Paz Vizsla, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Good Parent Din Djarin, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Growing up Mandalorian, Mandalorian Adoption (Star Wars), Mandalorian Armor (Star Wars), Mandalorian Clans (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Multi, POV Original Female Character, Protective Paz Vizsla, Resol'nare (Star Wars), Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Tension, The Author Regrets Nothing, Young Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 61,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spc4eva/pseuds/Spc4eva
Summary: "Off it goes-" he reached for it, but gave her a meaningful tilt of his helmet. "Remember what I told you. No one other than the two of us can see your face, Sena. Anyone who tries to do this-""Stick em!"Hux chortled, her helmet reading that he was mostly amused before he disengaged the seal and pulled it off. "You're going to do well, verd'ika."--The Mandalorians owe a debt and are saddled with the wild Anaxian princess as a Foundling as the Empire sweeps the galaxy.---Additional tags for wider reader base. This is written in 3rd person, not 2nd. (She/Her not You)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Original Character(s), Din Djarin & Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Paz Vizsla & Original Character(s)
Series: Lost Amongst the Parsecs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149497
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	1. The Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Faylen is forced to flee her home planet and taken into the care of Clan Vizsla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 13,188
> 
> OMG I have been planning this for so long, so thank you for any who are willing to ride it out with me and wait for updates because I'm going to be a PITA on editing and making certain that absolutely beautiful chapters come out. I'm going to try and update weekly, but we'll see if I can get the cogs turning and maybe post 2. Doubt it, because I really want the time to edit and putz around with dialogue.
> 
> My intentions for this fic are simple - I want a Mandalorian raised OC of my own self-serving elven race that I've made up. HATE ME. DO IT.
> 
> Originally, I wanted this to be a fem!OCxPaz, but after much deliberation, decided against it in favor of fem!OC & BigBrother!Paz, because their sibling relationship has given me so much damn life and daydreams. For those hoping this will be smut with a plot, I'M SORRY, but it's not.
> 
> There will be adult themes, trigger warnings, and eventually smut. Some of it will be awkward young adult fumbling, but not much since that's awkward to write. The real smut is when we get back to present canon which will take a bit cuz I really wanna flesh out relationships and characters.
> 
> Full intention is to delve, dive, and describe day to day life of the Tribe, growing up as a Mandalorian, and the challenges our little bird will face along the way. This will include Mandalorian slice of life, culture, strife, and angst - but also tons of rewarding smalltalk and accomplishments.
> 
> Armorer will be around and of a similar age to Paz. Whereas, Din will be the same age as Sena. While the original intention was not for them to be shipped, the more I think about it - they definitely will be. *grouses quietly* EDIT: ok so I've definitely lied and there's gonna be romance cuz my brain can't undo it. These chapters are hella long and span years so... Yeah. They are hella shipped in my brain now
> 
> We all want a BAMF Mandalorian OC, so here I am gonna gush all over the culture and vomit up tons of content for you to swallow. If ya want it.

_**13BBY** _

"Your grace."

The morning was chill, much more so than typical for the mid season. Lifting her palm toward the sky, she felt a few drops of dew splatter to her palm, pressing cool kisses to her skin. Cocking her head, her eyes slid back from the balcony toward the servant entreating her. She broke a gentle smile. Today would be a fine day. Faylen wasn't certain why, but she had a good feeling. Birds trilled in the thicket of trees that surrounded the grounds in a verdant embrace, sheltering the beauty of the architecture which had long since been replaced elsewhere in the galaxy. Not here. Genmaris was one of a kind, the beauty of the Anaxian culture still in full swoon. Protected, hidden, secret. 

"Yes, Merith?" the girl, only just 13 years old, turned gracefully, the pale ivory skirt of the night shift skimming her calves. 

"Your father sends word that we shall be receiving guests today. He requests that you dress accordingly," Merith bowed her hair, dark hairs scattering around her cheeks as she bowed respectively. Like the princess, she had tanned skin and long pointed ears, however she did not share the same golden eyes nor the speckled teardrop marks of the goddess that pressed against the girl's shoulders and latticed down beneath her bodice, twinkling like amber teardrops, visible beneath the thin material of her chemise. Kissed by the goddess - a great honor and blessing. 

"Do you know who these guests might be? It's very rare that we receive outsiders," Faylen trotted forward, drawing near the bath as Merith turned on the water. The servant's fingers skimmed the heat, making certain it was not too scalding for the girl's skin as she threw her chemise off and climbed into the copper tub. Drawing her knees up to her chest, more markins slid down against her tummy and against the outside of her legs. On the tops of her feet, the golden teardrops were double lined in the shape of crescent moons toward her toes. So many kisses, so purposefully placed. Few laid eyes on all the girl's markings and aside from her parents, these people had only been servants and a couple of doctors. Rumors floated through the air on wings. Despite not seeing them, many knew of her markings throughout the lands. Most Anaxians were graced with a handful at most, if they were lucky, but the princess had one hundred and twenty two. Skimming her spine, forming another half-moon at the base of her neck, cradling her chest, and trailing down her throat in a purposeful line. The common folk speculated what this meant, foretelling that the princess had a great destiny ahead of her.

"Well..." Merith drawled, uncertain on whether or not to betray the information she'd heard for the sake of it not being true. Yet, when the honey hued irises turned up toward her, she melted like a candle hearted by a raging flame. "I hear they're Mandalorian." Bending down, she began to scrub the girl's warm toned skin with a sponge, careful not to work her markings too hard. 

Faylen perked up, her long ears twitching slightly before Merith poured water over her head, plastering her inky hair to her adorable face. The servant chuckled slightly as the girl moved her mop of hair out of her face, peering out like a swamp monster. "Mandalorian?" she repeated curiously. "As in the best warriors in the galaxy?"

"None other, your grace," Merith smiled, beginning to lather the girl's thick hair. Even on this remote planet, the legend of the Mandalorians had reached them. The princess had heard about their prowess, just as anyone else. The corners of the servant's lips remained pinned up as the teenager drew in a doleful breath, fluffed her cheeks out.

"Why? What do we have here that they could want?" Faylen asked. 

"I cannot begin to fathom, your grace," Merith admitted calmly, pouring water over her head again, causing the girl to sputter. "Only that there are two of them and your father is entertaining them."

Sinking lower into the water, the child's hair floated on the surface like dark tentacles. She blew bubbles, smelling the minerals and floral soap, sniffling slightly at the pungency. Her father had told her a few stories about Mandalorians and she knew that they were fearless warriors who wore armor of beskar - the strongest iron in the galaxy. T-visor helmets, obscured faces, an ensemble of weapons and gadgets, skill in hand to hand combat, prowess that could rival Jedi. A shiver went down her spine, despite the warmth of the water, wondering what it would be like to meet one. Would they be intimidating? Did they remove their helmets? Would they be gruff or courteous? 

"Let's not keep them waiting all day. You wouldn't wish to offend or upset the Mandalorians would you?" Merith scolded as Faylen skulked in her own head, continuing to blow bubbles. Jolting upward, her eyes went big like saucers, wondering if she was being rude with how long she was taking. "C'mon now, your grace." Offering a towel, the girl scampered out of the bath and let Merith swaddle her before fussing with her hair. "So much of it, Maker, so much hair."

Faylen chose a proper dress for guests, spending longer than she ought to. Did Mandalorians even like dresses? Or did they only like armor? Maybe she should wear pants to prove she wasn't just a prissy little princess. Her father had taught her how to shoot a blaster, how to use a dagger, and a little hand to hand combat. Papa had said that people might wish to hurt a princess, so it was important that she could defend herself should the need ever arise. Faylen was still soft though and didn't spend half as much time as she ought to in practicing. Instead, she'd play in the forest, dirty her expensive gowns, and hide in hidden alcoves and glades. Princess Faylen was notorious for eluding guards and making her papa sick with worry. Wasn't her fault that Anaxes had such interesting fauna that she just had to follow. There wasn't even anything outside the palace to worry about, Faylen had long since realized the vipers were amongst the court.

Merith chastised her for taking so long. "We should have been done by now, your grace-" she continued on her tirade of banter, the child drowning her out as the female brushed through her long tangles of inky hair. Not listening, the girl stared in the mirror at the shimmersilk gown of pale blue. The goddess marks on her throat and collar were visible, but the others were hidden beneath the luxurious material. Merith twirled pieces out of her face, leaving the rest loose, keenly aware that Faylen would rip apart any hairstyle too ornate. Lifting a platinum circlet, she placed it on the girl's brow before letting out a low sigh. "Try not to get this one dirty. That'll be the fourth shimmersilk gown you've destroyed this moon."

"I don't try to destroy them," Faylen groused, rolling her eyes at the servant in the mirror. "Last time was definitely not my fault, I swear. Rathas was chasing me through the gardens-" she puffed out her cheeks like a frog. Rathas was a sore topic for her, a blight on her existence, and a hellion pretending to be her friend. Faylen wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't do that, it's not a very lady-like expression," Merith huffed, shaking her head at the hopeless princess. "And Rathas is likely to be your betrothed one day. You'd do well not to scuttle away from that boy and make friends with him."

Faylen feigned a retching noise, repulsed by the very idea of the boy even glancing in her direction. "Gross! He's so gross! Papa would never make me marry him," she retorted, voice hitching into a plaintive and very high, tinny tone. "He tried to kiss me you know. I punched him in the nose. He was boasting that he fought one of the sabre boars in the forest, but it was really me."

Merith groaned. "Oh my Goddess. That was why-" she rubbed her face, pulling down on her lower lids as she tried to wonder how the king could have such an unruly daughter. His majesty was so well mannered, patient, and benevolent. His daughter could be polite and courteous when necessary, but a little too curious and explorative for her own good. Having never had a proper scolding in her life, she rarely realized that her behavior was inappropriate. The princess wasn't a brat, but there was certainly some work that could be desired for the child's disposition. "You're ready now, your grace. Let's go to the gardens to meet the guests."

Standing up, Faylen took Merith's arm, her heart thumping excitedly in her small chest. Mandalorians. What did their armor look like? What color would it be? Maybe they'd let her touch it, if that was allowed. Leaving behind the wispy elegance of her chambers, she stepped out into the hallway. Genmaris' Castle was constructed of polished wood and elas stone - a pale white marble streaked with veins of gold. The wood panels were tangled with vines, full leaves leaning eagerly toward the passerbyers. Flora was very much a part of their everyday life. It was almost everywhere around the castle, the grounds; in the halls, on the balconies, even in the washrooms; acting as the lifeblood and veins to all of Anaxian life. Drawing a deep breath, Merith released her as she skirted down the wide staircase leading to the fronds of blue grass that hemmed the entrance to the topiary section of the garden. 

Sunlight slanted fingers through the trees above them, casting little peeps of warmth. King Ardryll stood in simple regal, a fine emerald doublet chased in golden embroidery, a set of tan trousers, and dark leather boots. Aside from the golden circlet on his tanned brow, he might've been easily mistaken for another castle goer. Entreating a pair of armor clad figures, his topaz eyes slid over toward his daughter as she stumbled through the grass and collided into his side with big, excited eyes. Chuckling lightly, he brushed a stray piece of hair behind a long ear. Despite how wild the girl could be, he would not trade her exuberance or grins for anything.

There were two Mandalorians, one in a full suit of dark, sherwood green armor. He was tall, lean, and had an impressive posture that reminded her of the knights around the castle. Her eyes went to the vambraces he wore, including the right one which had a ton of tiny buttons on it. Beside him was another Mandalorian, whose helmet was similar, but two pieces he wore were actually made of beskar. He was tall too, almost the same height as the green warrior, though his chestplate was made of durasteel. 

"Ah, here she is," Ardryll hummed, drawing his daughter in, holding her shoulder, giving her a meaningful look. Almost as if to say ‘please try not to be too silly’. She was a princess after all, even if she forgot herself when she was too excited.

"Welcome to Genmaris Castle. It is a pleasure to have you here," remembering her manners, she grabbed her skirts and curtsied prettily, before stealing one look up at her papa. He gave an approving nod, before her eyes turned back toward the Mandalorians. She had so many questions, but sucked on her teeth instead of asking.

"This is my daughter, Faylen," Ardryll introduced. 

The green Mandalorian stepped forward, kneeling down to that he was of a more similar height to her. She was astonished by how close he got, his dark visor setting into her eyes; dark and shaded so much she could not even see his eyes even this proximity. "I've heard a lot about you, Princess Faylen. Your father and I are old friends. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Hux Vizsla," he introduced, taking her hand in his glove and giving her a warm pat. "Now... my son, Paz, has never been to a proper castle before. Would you mind showing him the grounds?" 

Her head tilted, scattering her long waves of hair as she realized that he was referring to the other Mandalorian. Given the warrior's height, she had assumed he was an adult; maybe he was, she couldn’t tell how old either of them were. Big eyes slid over to him and she swallowed hard. "Of course! It would be my honor, Mr. Vizsla," clearing her throat, trying not to twist her hands anxiously as Hux returned her hand she glanced up toward the visor of the other Mandalorian. "Sir, please come with me-" she puffed out her chest, offering her arm to this... Paz. 

"I'm not-" his visor turned toward Hux and she might've believed that he was slightly anxious from the cracking of his voice. The green warrior stood up and gave an affirming nod, Faylen still holding her arm out, trying not to look dejected as she thought he was going to ignore her. Finally, he took it, and Faylen preened slightly. "You don't have to call me sir," he grumbled.

"Papa, we'll be around the gardens first," Faylen proclaimed, feeling the leather of the Mandalorian's glove through the thin material of her gown. It was sort of rough, but sent tiny shocks of electricity lancing up her skin as being so close to a feared warrior. Guiding him away from the pair of adults, she stole a few sideways glances before gliding past the bantha shaped bush. "As you can see the shrubs are very... shrub-like-" she announced, using her princess voice which was rather courteous and dry, trying to seem as dignified and royal-like as possible. He was utterly silent, which made her a bit nervous. "Is that a vibro-blade?" He was quite a bit taller than her, his belt about chest level for her, meaning it was easier to glance down than up, assessing the tiny arsenal on his utility belt.

Pausing, the suit of armor finally glanced down at his belt which she was eying. "Yes," he confirmed, unsheathing it so that she could stare at the way the sunlight caught the reflection. Brushed grey steel, verdant with the fingers of sunlight chasing down, reflecting the garden greenery. "Why does a princess know what a vibro-blade looks like?"

"Cuz-" she sucked in air and bent down, pulling her own out of her boot. "I carry one. This is Pig-Sticker. It's not as nice as yours," she held it up, scrunching her nose as she glanced between the differences. The Mandalorian's knife was twice the size as hers. Still, she had a knife and knew what they looked like, so she had a certain sort of pride about her as she brandished the little toothpick. 

"Pig-Sticker?" 

"Well, it's kinda small. Probably wouldn't even stick a pig, if I'm completely honest," she contemplated out loud, turning the knife over in her hand, glancing back over at his. "I just thought it was a funny name. People name blades, don't they?"

The Mandalorian rumbled with a laugh, the soft noise crackling through the vocoder. "They do. _Sometimes._ "

"So what's the name of yours then?" 

"I didn't name mine," Paz betrayed. 

"What about..." she cocked her head, narrowing her eyes as she leered at the blade. "Now that ought to be a good Pig-Sticker, but mine's already named that. So maybe Bantha-Sticker?"

The Mandalorian laughed again, a little louder this time. Faylen warmed at the noise, excited that she'd made the mysterious warrior chuckle. He didn't seem as scary or intimidating as the legends said. Rather, she thought he was sort of nice - nicer than most people around the castle who just feigned smiles down at her and pretended to be kind. She’d heard some of the ladies in waiting complaining about her before, despite having been silkily sweet to her during tea time. Faylen didn’t like when people were double-faced like that, but being honest wasn’t a very common quality round these parts. 

"Bantha-Sticker," he considered carefully, spinning the blade dexterously between his fingers. "Who have you been sticking with that blade, your grace?"

"Oh," she tucked it behind her back as if she shouldn't have revealed she had it. Kicking at the grass, slightly doleful, she rolled her shoulders. The only reason she'd taken it out was because she wanted to ask a bunch of questions and it was the easiest way to bridge the gap. "Trees sometimes. I've never actually had to stab anyone... Yet."

"I hope you shouldn't ever have to. Can you show me what you might do if you needed to?"

She blinked a few times, slightly taken aback that he wanted to see. Giving an overly exuberant nod, hair flying around her, she pulled the dagger back out. "I'm in a dress, so I might not be as good," she told him quickly, sweeping her foot back and bracing her wrist before turning the hilt in her palm. "But I'd stick them like this. Papa says that since I'm small, supporting my knife hand is important."

The Mandalorian circled in front of her. "Your father is a smart man."

"I know that," Faylen scowled, but quickly replaced the expression with delight. "How do you hold your knife?"

He humored her, dropping into a similar stance, though it suited him much better in armor than in a shimmersilk gown. Using a reverse grip, he also braced his arm, gripping his vambrace as he displayed his form. The princess turned her blade to try and mimic him. Hoping that maybe she could possess even one ounce of the warrior’s impressive form or the way in which it looked so natural, like wind blowing through the leaves in the trees. "Oh careful there-" he reached out before she could cut herself, steadying a hand as she nearly turned the metal onto her supportive wrist. "Takes a lot of training to be able to hold it like that."

"Gotta start somewhere," she shrugged, but was nonplussed by Paz's steady hand keeping her from cutting herself. "I'm supposed to be showing you around..." she realized, her mouth dropping into an O shape. "Sorry, I'm being an awful host. I just got really excited. I've never met a Mandalorian before and then I saw-" she began to gush, bending back down to tuck Pig-Sticker back into her boot to save herself showing her face, which had began to grow hot with blush. 

"It's fine, your grace. You're considerably more hospitable than most people," Paz revealed, which made her brows push together. People weren't kind to Mandalorians? Did they have some sort of death wish? He held his arm back out to her and Faylen eagerly latched on, not feeling intimidated by the tall young man. "So the shrubs. What would you say about this one?" He pointed up toward one of a local creature. 

"That's Cù-sìth," she told him, admiring the beauty of the canine bush. "It's like a dog. They live in the forests. Most of the time they're harmless, except when you make them angry. They have a very distinct bark. If you hear the first one, you better start running. If you linger long enough to hear the third, you'll go raving mad."

"Ah, sounds very pleasant," Paz acknowledged warily. 

"I mean, they're cute. I've seen some before. As big as banthas, shaggy green fur, adorable amber eyes."

"I have a feeling that you tend to like things that are no good for you, princess," he chuckled softly. 

"I've never had one bark at me," Faylen insisted as they resumed their walk through the grounds. "Most of the wildlife here won't bother you unless you bother it. Cù-sìth is much the same. They just want to be left alone to their peace."

"What other kind of interesting fauna do you have here?"

"Plenty! Let me show you where the Frynocks. Now those are things you really don't want to meet. I swear, they'd survive even if Anaxes were nothing but a pile of rubble," she tugged him toward where the strange creature was hewn into green leaves. "They can only come out at night. The sunlight hurts them. So we don't ever see them around here... but some are bigger than you."

Faylen continued to pelt the Mandalorian with information about the animals native to the planet, specifically those she had come in contact with during her wild escapes. Rather than scold her, he listened on politely, offering a few questions and comments. His intrigue made her blather on much longer than she should have, but she was so excited to share and not be told that what she did was very unbecoming of a princess. _Plus_ it was a Mandalorian, so who knew how long it’d be before she met another one. Anaxes wasn’t renowned for being the most frequented planet, so she doubted she’d see a Mandalorian for a very long time. If rambling kept one in her attendance, then Faylen was going to keep spewing words until the sun set.

"Is that beskar? Your helmet I mean. I think your chestplate is durasteel if I'm not mistaken," she decided to lob a question at him, since he wasn't utterly stoic. 

"Yes, it is," he informed her. Maybe she mistook it, the slight bit of surprise that she knew what durasteel armor was when her home was gilded of stone, wood, and marble. 

Faylen sucked on her teeth again, her face screwing up slightly as she tried to swallow her next question. "Can I feel it?" The words fell out of her mouth anyways. 

"Uhm-"

"Sorry!" she squeaked, cheeks burning. She’d crossed a line, she knew it. "You don't have to. Don't feel obligated. I won't order you or anything. Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I can make people do whatever I want. I was just curious because I've never seen a Mandalorian before or beskar or-"

"Breathe, your grace," he reminded her kindly. She had let the words basically vomit out of her mouth for fear of offending him. "It's alright, here-" In the same manner that Hux had, he knelt in front of her and tilted his head forward. "Just... touch. Don't try to remove it or I might have to use Bantha-Sticker on you."

Faylen wheezed slightly at his deadpan joke, splitting a wide smile. Lifting a hand, her tanned fingers brushed the side, icy cold beneath her pads. Testing at first, she then pushed her full palm against it, gazing on curiously as the frigid metal before drawing her hand back. "It's colder than normal steel. I'm surprised, since it's not ever very cold here... Thank you... for letting me-"

"You're welc-" but the warrior was interrupted, tensing slightly as a figure trundled out from behind one of the shrubs. Moving swifter than a lightning strike, the Mandalorian was back on his feet and brushed her behind him. "Stay behind me, princess," the warmth of his voice vanished in an instant and her eyes widened as he touched the blaster on his hip. Despite the order, the tremor of power in the male’s voice, she peeked her head around his figure and spotted the assailant that had startled them.

“Oh, it’s just _him_ ,” her voice dripped with irritation, lips tugging down as far as they would go as the gangly boy froze as if he’d been placed in carbonite. Rathas was in his gawky, in between phase, not quite growing into his new longer limbs, a pudgy baby face haunting him each time he looked in the mirror, trying to hide behind a curtain of lank greasy hair. She knew he didn’t like to wash it often because it curled and made his face look more rotund. Didn’t change the fact that it reeked, despite the oils he put in it in a vain attempt to mask the stench. “Mr- uh, Paz. It’s alright.”

“You know him, your grace?” the warrior craned his head slightly, the edge of his visor catching her in his peripheral. 

“Wish I didn’t,” Faylen snarked quietly, as not to be overheard. Stepping out from behind the shadow of the Mandalorian, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew up as haughtily as she could. For someone so small, the girl was little more than a skulking loth-cat, especially dwarfed by her blue durasteel and beskar counterpart. “What do you want, Rathas? Can’t you see that I’m escorting a guest around the grounds?” He had no place in interrupting or being there. It did not strike Faylen’s mind that he might also be curious. No, she was rather greedy, wishing to have all the time of day to drill Paz Vizsla with questions without being interrupted.

Rathas recovered swiftly after the Mandalorian’s hand slid off his blaster. Drawing himself up to his full height, he pressed a hand over his doublet, to his collar. “My apologies, your grace,” he simpered, hazel eyes mostly muddy save for a few flecks of amber and jade. “I heard that there were a pair of barbarians trolloping around the grounds and wanted to make certain that you were safe. Since you are the heir to the throne and of petite stature, I was worried for your wellbeing.”

Faylen’s temper flared at Rathas calling the Mandalorians barbarians. The same boy who’d tried to force a kiss on her a few weeks back was now pretending that he cared for her health? No, she knew he just wanted to interrupt and cause her a bit of misery after what she’d done. “Those ‘barbarians’ are the guests of the Crown and you’d do well to mind your tongue. Nor my father or I will suffer such indignance,” her voice was sharp, slightly petulant, but she did as papa had told her: to own her tone in moments like this. Even if she did not like to bask in the power of being royalty, Rathas was definitely an exception. “Now, since you can see that I am in perfectly good health, you may leave.”

“Your grace, even if you insist, these Mandalorians are outsiders. I could not, in good conscience, abandon you to wander deeper into the gardens with this man,” Rathas continued.

“My father trusts them. I put my faith in his hands… unless you are questioning the judgement of your king?”

The threat missed the target and Rathas curled his lip indignantly, rising to the challenge of her words.

“I do believe the princess asked, rather kindly, that you leave,” Paz spoke now, his voice rumbling like thunder, vacant of the mellow warmth he’d spoken to her earlier with. He brushed his sidearm, a much more _real_ threat than being told off by a whiny princess. 

Rathas knew when he was beat, not willing to bet that the Mandalorian wouldn’t shoot him where he stood. Forcing a smile on his thin mouth, he bowed stiffly. “I wish you well, your grace, and that no ill befalls you.”

She snorted as he turned and ducked away, not content until his stupid head was utterly out of sight. “Thank you,” she turned back to Paz, dropping her arms and the defensive posture. “I… don’t like him very much-” the memories washed over her like a deafening wave, the fear she’d felt pinned against the tree outside the castle grounds. Frollicking like she usually did, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until Rathas caught up with her. He was bigger than her and in spite of his spindly, spider limbs, he was stronger too. Rubbing her arms self consciously, she tried not to think about it anymore. “You see his nose? The way it was kinked like this-” she brushed her own, small upturned nose which was dotted with a tiny constellation of freckles. “-I broke his nose a few weeks ago. Gave him a real good hook-” she swung her arm up to indicate just how she did it, feeling her heart swell with a tiny jolt of adrenaline as she’d fought back against her assailant, remembering how the blood had gushed out like a river and ruined yet another of her shimmersilk gowns. Despite losing an expensive dress, she had reveled in the fact that she’d actually managed to break his nose.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet curiously, gazing down at her intently. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He _did_ ,” she agreed, a dark menacing grate to the edge of the girl’s voice. “So-” she drew a deep breath, chasing away the torrent of swirling emotions. Instead, she plastered a smile to her face, big and dopey as her ears wagged slightly. “There’s still a little more of the gardens you haven’t seen. Then maybe I can bring you to the spires! They have the most magnificent views of the forests.”

* * *

“I was beginning to think that you’d never call upon me, _Jetii_ ,” Hux Vizsla leered at the man across from him, so different from how he remembered him. The last time they had met, his fate had been written in the stars and the word they spoke was death. His own brother had made the mistake of crossing the Order amidst the Clone Wars and Hux believed he was going to die with many other Mandalorians, wishing to see the face of his son once more, wishing that he wouldn’t be leaving Paz without a _buir_. Yet, Ardryll Krisdi stood in front of him not as a Jedi, but as a king. He suspected there had been more to this man a few years back, but after glimpsing the girl - probably less than a handful of years younger than his own son - he comprehended why Ardryll had been willing to help him in the first place: he had not been loyal to the Galactic Republic. Hiding a secret life away in the groves of Anaxes, he need only fake his death before laying down his lightsaber and returning amongst his people. Hux found the irony in this, considering that a Mandalorian had once done the same thing thousands of years ago.

“Come now,” Ardryll spoke in the same, perfectly manicured and intelligent tone. His eloquent accent reminded Hux duly that this was a cultured man, not only due to the station of his birth, but his time spent in Coruscant amongst the now fallen Order. “We both know that term no longer applies to me. I forsook that path the moment I laid eyes on my late wife and then had Faylen.”

The lust for a family. Hux could not blame Ardryll, as family was central to Mandalorian life. How the Jedi could turn their backs on all attachment… he did not know. What he did know was how unnatural he thought it was and that it was no surprise that one of their own had gone manic. It had happened before. History seemed to repeat itself often with the Jedi. One would think they would learn that turning their back on love resulted in nothing but a ticking time bomb to see which would detonate first. Hux hadn’t really believed the transmission he had received, thinking that Ardryll would keep himself away from anything that so much as smelled like the Republic.

“Why am I here?” Hux asked tartly. This was a business transaction, not a run-ashore. The king wanted something and that was the only reason he had bothered the Mandalorian. 

“Please, let us go somewhere a little more private,” Ardryll requested, lifting a palm and gesturing toward a thicket of rose bushes in full bloom. Even if Hux was irritated with being there, he could not deny that the planet was beautiful, especially the forests that the selphi-subrace occupied. Whilst a small fragment of the mountainous world, the Anaxians had found a way to peacefully coexist with their woad. An ability that Mandalorians had not learned, after desecrating their home in sake of mining for beskar. There was a sublime loveliness in Genmaris, the lack of steel walls, and the warmth openness from the halls to the outdoors. Lead out to a gazebo coated in a cloak of ivy, Ardryll sat down on a wrought iron chair and let out a low sigh. “I’ve not called you here to waste your time.”

“That has yet to be seen,” Hux retorted, taking the other seat and gazing out amongst the gardens. On the far side, he could see the glint of his _ad’s_ armor, stooping slightly over the princess who was smiling larger than the man would have thought possible. “Your kid is interesting. She got any of your talent?”

“Hm?” the king glanced up, having been deep in thought before he shook his head, long pointed ears swaying. “No, she does not have a connection to the Force. Thank the Maker for that.”

Beneath his helmet, Hux frowned slightly, wondering why anyone would not wish for their child to be gifted in that manner. He also had not known the Anaxian to be distracted. He was a highly trained Jedi Knight, honed and capable of defeating Mandalorians. “What is… going on here?”

“Your son seems to like her,” Ardryll muttered quietly, turning his luminous eyes to pin Hux right where he sat. They were molten, like gold melted in the Foundry. 

Hux glanced back out, watching as the teen let the girl hang onto him, her excited gibbering palpable even from the spot they roosted in, keeping a hawk’s eye on the pair. “Why? You offering to marry her off?” he joked lamely, but was slightly taken aback by the soft sigh that parted the king’s lips. “No kriffing way-”

“Not marriage,” the Anaxian finally said. “But Mandalorians take Foundlings, do they not?”

“We do, but-” his words died on the back of his throat, observing the clasp of the Jedi’s hands and the slouch in his shoulders. “The Empire.” Separatists ripped apart most of the Mandalore Sector and had also ravaged parts of Anaxes. The was a brief respite, followed by the wake of Imperial clone troopers continuing to wash over the Core Planets, slowly marching their way out across the galaxy, taking planet by planet or destroying those who refused to comply. “You’re a _Jetii_ , a _king_. You’re telling me there’s no better option than being Mandalorian?”

“Anaxians are too identifiable. From our dark skin, pointed ears, to the fact that Faylen has many goddess tears… There will be no doubt who she is. I sense a darkness on the horizon and I know I have one more battle with my lightsaber, but-” he pursed his lips, closing his bright eyes and slinking back into his seat. “There will be no mercy for her. Even if she has no promise to be a Jedi, she is my daughter. I know what is coming and _he_ shall not spare her. _He_ did not spare any of the younglings-” the king’s voice cracked and a single fat salty drop ran down his cheek. “Please. I know your Tribe keeps their helmets on aside from those that are family. Our debt. Pay it in this manner. Take her and train her.”

Hux remained eerily quiet, glancing back out toward where the two trotted along, Faylen tugging Paz in the direction of the castle now. “She is older and small-” his voice finally sizzled out of the vocoder, weak and ill. The idea of the little girl being killed twisted like a knife in his belly. “There’s really no one?” Hux knew the answer to this, as the king had just explained that the child was too identifiable. Between her golden markings, her eyes, to the dark tan of her skin; Anaxians were unmistakable, especially the princess. Even the selphi were different, in spite of the pointed ear similarities. 

“Faylen is strong. She broke the nose of a boy twice her size just a few weeks ago. And she always finds a way to sneak out of the castle, despite all the guards and droids being assigned to keep an eye on her,” Ardryll informed him, finally opening his eyes to implore the Mandalorian - to save the last little shred of his family. “I cannot take her elsewhere. Because of what I am, I will be hunted ruthlessly. I do not wish that for her. I must stand my ground here as the king, support my people in our final hours, make one last effort for the sake of Genmaris.”

Even if they had been enemies at one point, Hux’s chest burned with respect for the king’s refusal to abandon his people to hide his daughter. Still, he pitied the Jedi, who had chosen the path of love to slowly lose it piece by piece. “Broke a boy’s nose?” he snorted, eyes trailing the girl as she disappeared behind a set of shrubs with his _ad._

“Anaxians are quicker than humans. Not stronger by any means, but we are lighter on our feet, as you are keenly aware,” Ardryll reminded him, thrusting the Vizsla back into a fit of memories, the hazy glow of the yellow saber in the Jedi’s hands. Whirling it like a dervish, creating an arc of light reminiscent of the sun, striking him back against the frame of the gunship - cornering him like a rat. Even if he had beskar, the Jedi had known to strike where the armor did not meet. Hux should have died.

“How much time do you think you have?” Hux inquired, looking to the trees that would soon be barren and charred, the tall manicured grass that would be trodden to nothing but slick dirt, and the gardens which would wilt under the barrage of blasterfire. All this beauty would be gone, replaced with nothing but desolace and strife, blood and bone, and death. These were not things that Hux was unfamiliar with, but he did not think that Anaxes deserved it. The planet was quiet and peaceful. They had done nothing more than remain loyal to the Republic and that was enough for the Empire to drop the guillotine over their heads. No mercy for those who would not convert.

“A few days at most,” tilting his head, the king’s dark hair glinted like obsidian against his circlet. “You’ll take her?”

Hux grumbled, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a princess. Foundlings were not usually acquired this way, but the fact that Anaxes faced its demise and the girl would not be spared, he couldn’t turn his back on the child in good conscience. She was older. Foundlings came in all shapes and ages, from infants to teenagers. Hux would have preferred her to be a handful of years younger, as it would be easier to train her when she was still highly impressionable. “I owe a debt,” was all Hux betrayed, thinking back to Ardryll’s praise of his daughter. He did not think the Anaxian would lie just to impress him. The girl might have some training, but she had also been raised as royalty, which meant she’d probably never had a hard day in her life. “The Way… it will be difficult for her.”

“Faylen is a resilient child. She will do well amongst your people. She needs only the chance.”

Hux resigned to drinking in the gardens, admiring it and committing it to memory because he knew that once they left, none of it would remain. The king let him wander on his own, pausing by a lattice of strange violet flowers that hung like bells, long golden stigmas hanging out like a dog lolling its tongue. Taking it between his fingers, he turned over the petals and thought of Sivo and how the hue of the flower was similar to her beskar. What would Sivo have done? _She wanted a daughter so badly to train. To teach how to be good at both shooting and cooking. To raise a large clan. Our clan was supposed to be large too._

Aware that no one would miss them when the planet was burning in a few days time, Hux picked several of the bell flowers and took them into the castle. A few people eyed him, as if he’d done something against the rules - picking flowers from the king’s garden - but they could all go sod off. Acquiring directions from a servant, he was escorted to a chamber that they had been afforded for the night. The room was as large as his home back on Vorpa'ya, making him huff an irritated sigh. He’d been to more exuberant places, decadence dripping off the walls to the point where it felt gaudy. Even if Genmaris wasn’t that overdone, it was still slightly overwhelming. 

Paz arrived shortly thereafter, glancing at the pile of flowers on the table, tilting his helmet in slight confusion. Dismissing them, he plunked down into one of the plush lounge chairs and slid his helmet off. Fussing with the mess of blonde helmet curls, he pinned his icy eyes at his father. 

“How was the tour?” Hux inquired, pulling his own helmet off as he laid back on the bed and glared at the ceiling. Bed felt nice.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had a tour like that,” his _ad_ chuckled. “I assume that most royalty is not as… _enthused_.”

“Seemed like a _copikla adiik_ ,” Hux speculated, rubbing his eyes as he considered the situation even more. A bucket would have to go right on her head, but then again those _ears_ would be a problem. Maybe some sort of headband to pin them down so they wouldn’t get chafed?

“She carries a knife on her,” Paz laughed, still smiling at the thought of the princess. “Even named it - Pig-Sticker.”

Hux chuckled at this, wondering where the princess had gotten such a braw disposition from. He assumed it was because Ardryll hadn’t reigned her in. 

“Why are we here? I know you have a debt to settle. The king is the _Jetii_ that helped you escape on Mandalore, was he not?”

Hux sat up and nodded at Paz. “ _We are taking the girl with us,_ ” he switched to Mando’a, uncertain if they were being listened to. Ardryll had mentioned that others might have ears around the castle. The teen’s eyes hardened and he gave a questioning look rather than ask openly. “ _The planet will fall to the Empire soon. Her father is Jedi. They will kill her. She is to become your sister._ ”

This could go one of two ways with his _ad,_ but he was glad to see it go in the better. Paz set his jaw and gave a stern, comprehending nod. He did not question, he did not disagree. Instead, he turned back toward the hearth he sat near, watching the flames lick hungrily at the wood, crackling softly. “ _Kaysh mandokarla._ ” 

Hux hummed at these words, pleased to hear it, almost as if they settled some of his doubts. Mandokarla; the _right_ stuff. His own son was declaring that the girl had the _right_ stuff to be Mandalorian, a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and lust for life. Truly, this was all that Hux could hope for the kid, aware that her journey in joining the Tribe would not be easy. She would be behind other children her age, many of which would have a few years of combat training and Mando’a on her. Still, _if_ she had the heart, that was one less thing to worry about. 

A soft knock on the door roused them, both immediately reaching for their helmets and replacing them. No one was allowed to see their faces - only _buir, ad,_ and _riduur_ could look amongst each other freely. Paz pushed himself to his feet and answered the door, a hand tentatively brushing his blaster by his side as he cracked it open. His shoulders relaxed immediately and through the small slit, Hux saw that it was Faylen with a tray full of food. 

“Papa told me that you couldn’t have dinner with us because of your Creed,” she started, drawing in as deep of a breath as her tiny frame would allow. “So I brought food for the both of you, since you must be hungry.” 

Paz opened the door more so that he could take the tray from her. “Thank you, your grace…” but his _ad_ was confused by the gesture. “Couldn’t you have sent a servant?”

The child spluttered, clearly trying to come up with a rebuttal, but instead began turning a shade of pink. “Y-you’re our guests. I thought-” Hux couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night!” she squeaked, darting away before she could embarrass herself any further. 

No sooner than the door had shut, Hux roared with deep laughter. Paz turned around, still puzzled by what was going on, standing awkwardly with the tray in his gloved hands. “What?” the teen asked finally, needing the joke explained to him. 

“What did you _do_ on that walk?” Hux inquired through his guffaws.

“I didn’t do anything!” Paz’s voice was slightly panicked, as if his _buir_ were insinuating that he had laid a hand on the princess. 

“It’s probably nothing, just harmless curiosity,” Hux waved off, still chortling quietly. Paz grumbled, still not completely understanding, as he set the food down on the table. He’d comprehend one day once he had more experience with people. Most folks stayed as far away from Mandalorians as they could manage. The fact that the girl had appeared, doing a servant’s job, eying Paz with the biggest, golden irises… Hux knew the child liked him or else she wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. Good. It was better that she didn’t fear Mandalorians if she was to become one.

* * *

Skirting through the hallways, she ducked back into her room, heart pounding in her ears as loud as thunder as she flung the door shut behind her. Pressing her back against it, her ears burned as if they were on fire. Why? The moment the blue Mandalorian had opened the door, she had been so excited, remembering their afternoon together. Not that anything much had happened other than her showing him around the castle, but it had been fun. For once, she hadn’t been treated like a little doll or patronized, and Faylen was eager to get another chance to talk to Paz - even if it were as fleeting as dropping off dinner for him and his father. Although, the moment he’d asked why she hadn’t sent a servant made her freeze. It was… rather strange that the princess would come deliver the guest’s dinner?

_Idiot. He’s going to think you’re stupid now,_ Faylen rationalized, pouting as she pulled her circlet off and began untangling the pins from her wavy hair. Tossing them haphazardly on the vanity, she threw open the balcony doors and leaned up against the bannister, just as she had in the morning. A soft sigh parted her lips, the breeze winding fingers through her loose tendrils, which comforted her scalp. Night has cascaded over the grounds, her hands reaching up toward the stars. Once, papa had told her that when someone died, they became a star and burned brightly for longer than they’d lived. Now, Faylen knew this was not true, but she liked to pretend the one, biggest star just above her balcony was her mother. 

Rather than go to sleep immediately, Faylen pulled out a stack of books and set a kettle on the fire. Tucking into bed with her favorite novel, she blew the twisting steam over the top and enjoyed the soft floral flavor of the beverage. Her tummy warmed and she flipped a page, resigning herself to her evening routine. This tale was about Jedi and how one had fallen in love with someone outside the Order. Time melted away, her tea long since drained as she plucked through the pages of the romance, nearly pushing her nose into the book as she squealed quietly at the first kiss. Deciding she’d gotten to a point where she could finally put the bookmark in, Faylen flopped down in her bed and put a pillow over her face. 

She was a 13 year old girl, but she had often been taught by private tutors. There were other children around the castle, to include Rathas, but she’d never really felt close to any of them. No, they were rather petulant and obsessed with things like the latest fashion or gossip. None wanted to talk about things that Faylen liked - such as running amok in the woods. They told her that was dangerous and one day she’d get maimed or die. She didn’t think that would happen, but took their goading as more of a reason to trot off. Her evenings were devoted mostly to ignoring her teachers and taking a moment to enjoy leisurely books - humming quietly about the romances, envying the freedom of the characters in the book. While she doubted she would marry Rathas, she also knew that it probably wouldn’t be a decision she was allowed to make. Thus, she went through novels in the library like fodder, filling her tiny heart to the brim with the idea that maybe she might get to experience it and not a predetermined marriage. 

No sooner than her light went out, did the wispy curtains by her balcony shuddered and an explosion rocked the entire castle. Faylen sat up immediately, her eyes going wide and her ears pointing down. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, she could make out the finer details as she knew them, controlling her breathing after it hitched, leaning over toward her nightstand to reach for the blaster concealed beneath the drawer. Papa always told her to have a weapon stashed nearby in case someone came for her. The noise was chased rapidly with gunshots, ringing in her sensitive ears, her feet sliding over the comforter as she cradled the weapon to her chest. 

_Hide._

But her legs weren’t quite working. She had Pig-Sticker by the side of her bed, trembling as she checked the cartridge on the blaster and cocked it, posting her wrists on the edge of the mattress and pointing the muzzle toward the door. What was going on? Screaming. So much screaming. But they didn’t last long, followed with a terrible silence as each cry was severed swiftly. Her door rattled on the hinges, her finger moving from the side of the pistol to graze the trigger. Swallowing hard, the anguished cries faded and were only replaced with the tense beating of her heart, thrumming steadily like a war drum. The hinges snapped and the door flung open. She squeezed the trigger before seeing the dull glint of beskar. 

A groan followed the shot, which pinged off a helmet - _a blue helmet_. 

Faylen’s gums flapped, but no words came out as Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway with a rifle strapped across his chest. Dazed, but uninjured from the shot, he staggered forward and glanced toward where the shot had come from. Oh kriff, he was going to kill her. She scrambled under the bed, screeching like a feral animal when a gloved hand locked on around her bare ankle. Slashing awkwardly with Pig-Sticker she heard him curse. 

“Dank farrik! _Stop it!_ I’m trying to help you!”

Pulled out from underneath the bed, the Mandalorian crouched beside her, motioning for her to be quiet. Faylen’s eyes burned, but she chewed her lip, disoriented and confused as her ears sagged beside her. 

“Get up. We need to go,” he ordered, grabbing her hand and wrenching her to her feet. Faylen staggered, in nothing more than her sleep dress, holding onto her blaster and knife with paling knuckles. A quiet sob shook her shoulders as she sat the lights flashing through the thin shade of her balcony curtains. “ _Princess!”_

Despite the insistence in his voice, Faylen was paralyzed with fear and horror. Rather than try to get her to recover, the Mandalorian hissed a sigh and grabbed her. Picking her up like a child, he adjusted the strap of his rifle, settling it over the both of them before running for the door. Faylen leered over his shoulder, quaking like a leaf barely hanging onto a tree during a storm, as they left behind her room and belongings. Absolute mayhem consumed the castle, the Mandalorian speaking into a comlink in a language she didn’t understand. They were running through the halls that she had been raised in, the pale elas stone smattered with crimson. The vines sagged, no longer reaching out to passerbyers as they curled into themselves and withered slightly from being exposed to blaster smoke.

A shot echoed loudly nearby, Faylen crying out and pressing her face into the Mandalorian’s neck as her ears ached. “I need to-” they ducked around a corner, obscured briefly by the shadows. “-put you down. Wait here, _vod’ika._ ”

Faylen was set back on her bare feet, her toes stinging from the cold of the stone as she floundered slightly, reaching desperately for the Mandalorian as he stepped out from behind cover. A thin sheet of sweat coated her skin, hairs standing on end as she quivered in the shadows, eyes stretched wide as she saw white armored soldiers prowling through the corridors. They moved in swift regiment, prowling forward in a fine formation and right in their direction. Paz lifted his rifle and shot first, using the element of surprise before the soldiers began shouting in a foreign language. He returned vicious words with them in the same tongue before taking two more down. He sidestepped, diverting attention from her, but she noticed that he was walking straight toward a spire hallway, which would be locked seeing that it had her father’s study in it. Whimpering, she considered what might happen as the snow white enemies made ground toward the Mandalorian. He’d be backed into a corner.

They passed her hiding spot and she stepped out slightly, wondering what she should do. Paz said that he was helping her and she’d never seen those soldiers before. If she let them kill the Mandalorian, what hope did she have after? Swallowing hard, her fingers tightened around the hilt of Pig-Sticker. The knife was still a vibro-blade and the armor of the soldiers appeared to be similar in design to what Paz had been wearing… which meant that the throat would be exposed. Rolling her heels against the frigid marble, she followed them quietly, using her knowledge of the castle to hide behind statues and walls. There were three left now and Paz was at the door, little cover remaining as he realized now that the path was a dead end. 

Faylen had managed to sneak up just a few scant meters behind the troopers, hand shaking as she bunched the muscles in her legs up. Right at this moment, she was wishing she’d practiced a lot more with her combat. Bowling forward, she leapt onto a chair and used the height to fling herself to the nearest soldiers. The collision with the back of the clone’s armor drove the wind right from her lungs and her head spun, legs coiling around his hips before she reeled, nearly flopping right off. Screaming, she plunged the dagger into the exposed, black throat as the soldier flailed in surprise. Her fingers began damp and sticky, the vocoder sputtering as the soldier choked on his own blood. The distraction she had caused was enough for the other two to round on her, the body of the soldier she’d clamped onto falling to the ground on top of her. Stunned beneath the body of the man, she watched as the rifles trained on her and wondered if she was going to die. Her life flashed before her eyes and she hoped more than anything in that last moment - that the Mandalorian could escape with her diversion.

But the flash of red was not levied in her, but pierced their white armor, smoting it with blackened fingers before they crashed to the floor: dead. Still beneath the corpse of the soldier, she wriggled helplessly until a shadow fell over her. Shoving the body off, Paz tore her to her feet, her white chemise soaked entirely from collar to torso with thick, viscous warmth. Her fingers were still tight around the humming vibro-blade. 

“Looks like Pig-Sticker works, _vod’ika_ ,” he murmured, pressing a hand into the small of her back. “Do you know the way to the starship hangars?”

She wagged her head, her neck aching at her overdramatization. When she glanced down at her hand, she saw the dark liquid coating it. In the dim light of evening, the blood was discreet, indistinguishable aside from the unique heat and ply as she smoothed it in her fingers with macabre interest. Paz ushered her forward, stirring her from her fixation as she drew in a sharp breath, not realizing that she had been holding it. Her knuckles ached from how tight she was holding the blade, but her body kicked into autopilot. 

_Survive. Survive. Survive._

The word echoed in her head, into an empty void as she thought of nothing else. Not the screams, smell of blaster smoke, the metallic tang of blood heavy on the back of her throat, or the haze of battle. Her bare feet splattered into pools of liquid, which she did not need to look at twice to know _what_ it was. Darting through the halls, she barely registered the fact that she had a gloved palm in her hand, weaving them dexterously throughout the halls, nooks, and crannies that she’d used to evade the guards dozens of times to get out of the castle and into the wilderness. 

Genmaris’ last stand was by the starship port of the palace, her eyes swiftly adjusting to the lights that were posted outside the blast doors, flanked by a pair of platinum clad Anaxian knights. Stiffing at the sight of the princess, coated in blood and wild eyed, they parted ways to allow her entrance. There was little respite, the folks that had managed to flee onto the flight deck quailing and weeping behind storage crates. Her brows snared, cocking her head as she saw Merith breathing shallowly against a wall, cradling her abdomen as her grey smock was stained a hue darker, her tan skin pallid, ears sagging as she clung desperately to the last ounces of life. 

“Faylen!” her father’s voice snared her eyes away from her handmaiden and she saw him striding across the shed floor to meet her in his strong arms. “Heavens is any of this yours?” 

She broke down, tears spilling out of her eyes again as he checked the wounds. “N-no. I don’t think so,” she stammered. “P-pa-pa what’s going on?”

“We have a brief moment. I’ve set the charges, but once they go off, we have all of minutes to flee,” Hux Vizsla approached, a rifle strapped across his chest as he entreated her father.

Ardryll stiffened and a low, deep breath parted his lips as he gave a comprehending nod. “Faylen-” he picked her up, setting her back on her feet. “I love you very much. So very much. Now, I need you to be a good girl and listen very carefully. The Vizslas are taking you away from here. A Sith is coming.”

Sith. Her eyes stretched even further, which she hadn’t thought possible at this point. Her lips trembled and her ears hung low. Papa had told her about Sith, the terrible and evil Force-wielders who fought Jedi. “When will I see you again? Where will we meet?”

For the first time in her life, her papa did not answer her. He bent down, brushing his nose to her brow before kissing it. “I love you, Faylen.” Stepping away from her, Faylen turned and watched in horror as he pulled a silver cylinder off of his belt. His clothes… in her shock she had not realized he was wearing strange brown robes. He still had his circlet on, but the tan and brown robes were unlike anything her father had ever adorned. Switching the cylinder on, a golden blade sliced up and hummed with the whispers of thunder indicating lightning was on the horizon. “Vizsla, I will buy you as much time as possible. They will be distracted by a Jedi.”

“ _Papa!_ ” 

She lunged for him, but collided with a durasteel chest. Pig-Sticker clattered to the ground from her hand and arms wrapped around her so tight that she thought she was being strangled. Far. They were getting further from him, moving swiftly and into the hull of a ship as she saw the white armor of the clone soldiers breach the hangar entrance. Hux pressed a button on his vambrace, the ground trembling and the walls shuddering as multiple bombs around Genmaris Castle exploded. 

“NO! LET ME GO! NO!” she shrieked, the dock to the ship listing upward as Hux flung himself into the cockpit. Flailing against the blue Mandalorian, she fought in vain mostly, so tiny and small compared to the tall teenager. 

“ _Vod’ika!_ You’re going to hurt yourself-” 

And of course, she did. She sent a fist flying into the helmet, lips pinching together as she held the breath that billeted up from her lung. Grinding out a furious howl, she cradled her knuckles that were slip and aching, the pain lancing up to her elbow. 

“Shh, calm down.”

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to hear, having watched her home burning around her, slick with the blood of her people, and her father charging off with a lightsaber in his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to survive the Sith. _He was a distraction_. The original question she had asked: why were the Mandalorians here? - was now answered. Papa had called them to take her away to safety. Her hand hurt just as much as her heart, but she was in such despair that she barely noticed the hand patting the back of her head or running a soothing hand along her back. Despite having just punched him, she sagged against Paz and continued to release tears like a water fountain - to the point where she was hiccuping as the ship lurched beneath them. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed, other than the fact she had calmed down to only small sniffles, her entire face wet with salty tears. 

“Can I see?” Paz asked gently, trying to turn up her hand.

Her body was still stiff, but she relaxed slightly to let him pull up the fist that she’d punched him with. 

“Hm, going to need some bacta. If not for my bucket, you might’ve broken my nose too, _vod’ika_ ,” Paz decided matter-of-factly. 

Faylen coughed slightly, her nose all leaky, thus foiling her effort to scoff at his joke. 

“Do you think you can sit here? I’ll go get you a blanket-”

She shook her head, latching onto him like a tick, refusing to let go. What if he died too? What if he turned around and left? That would be one less person to be around, one less person who she trusted enough to attach to. 

He sighed quietly, pushing static through his modulator as he sat back down, muttering reassuringly in the foreign language he’d spoken earlier. Faylen’s eyes leered into the silver durasteel wall for a long while until her lashes fluttered and she closed them.

When she opened them again, the ship was listing through hyperspace, the terror of Genmaris a dull throb in her heart and the back of her head. Part of her expected to be put to bed, but was surprised to find herself still nestled against the Mandalorian who had also dozed off against the hull of the ship. Now that she wasn't soaked with tears and boogers, she could see and smell a little better. Her chemise was crusty, browned where the blood had soaked in, and chafing slightly at her skin. 

Sitting nearby, on top of a storage container, was Hux Vizsla - the dark green Mandalorian that had taken her from the demise of her home. Faylen had traveled a few times before, but always in comfortable luxury. The places she had been to were Naboo and Coruscant. Otherwise, she'd not been off Anaxes. He had a helmet in his hands, not his own, but one that was painted a dark, plum purple. 

"You're awake, _ad'ika,_ " he stated simple, his voice rumbling through his modulator as the impassive T-shaped visor leveled at her. There was nothing menacing about him, nor the other Vizsla that she was sitting on. From the moment she had met the both of them, she had felt rather comfortable around their masked faces and they'd not given her a reason to change her mind on the matter. Others would be filled with dread, fearful of what expression the Mandalorians might be hiding just beneath the beskar, but Faylen knew they were human and mortal. No droid would have comforted her like they did, nor would the droid have had a reason to feel enough pity to take her away. "Come here."

The demand was gentle, kind almost. Her legs quivered, but she did manage to push up eventually, disdainful over the state of her clothing and her skin. Her feet were raw and dried blood crusted like a cracked desert landscape with each footfall. Even if she was unharmed, the child had been through hell and her soiled dress and filthy skin was a testament to that. 

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly, approaching him so that she could glance down at the helmet he was holding. The visor was shaped slightly different, the wings like petals, leaning up in a Y-shape rather than T. The visor was dark and tinted with metallic midnight blue. 

" _Gai bal manda,_ " he muttered, finally looking up from the helm again. "You will become a part of our family."

While the words were soothing, the idea behind them made her heart seize in her chest. Our family. The implication that there was nothing left on Abaxes and would never be. All hope that her father might've survived dashed like a starship exploding in a dogfight. There were few tears left in the girl, but she managed to let out a strangled and guttral whine, like a loth-cat whose tail had been stepped on. Hux put the helmet beside him and picked her up, propping her on his knee just as her papa would do. Running a gloved hand between her shoulder blades, he continued until her whimpering had quieted.

"What that means," he glanced at her, waiting until she drew a few shuddering breaths. "Is you'll start anew. You will join our Tribe and be raised as a Mandalorian; as my _ad'ika_ and _vod_ to Paz. I hear that you're good with blades - look at you - a _verd'ika_ . Your _buir_ was very proud of you. This is what he wanted, for you to be safe."

"Why did they attack us? Why would anyone do that? Genmaris is peaceful, we never-" her eyes burned, but no tears came out, only a cracked noise from the back of her throat as she leaned into the comforting touch of the armored warrior. What he was saying didn't quite register in her head, thoughts jumbled up and out of order, his praise buzzing like bees, the satisfaction of being told she had done well not reaching her brain. 

"Because they do not care who they hurt or kill. The Empire is taking the galaxy and will step over anyone who so much as lifts a chin stubbornly in their direction. All they want is power. To them, we are insects," he answered honestly, the words registering as she nodded slowly. Even if it was a callous way of putting it, she needed to hear it phrased like this - to be told that she'd done no wrong and they were just bad people.

"Will they come for me? Or for your Tribe?"

"If we stir trouble, perhaps," he acknowledged grimly. "But they shall not know where you are or where the covert is. They will be too busy worrying about bigger fish than sniffing out you, _verd'ika_ -" he picked up the helmet and showed it to her. "Because once you put this on, you will no longer be a princess. You will be _Mando'ade_."

"What would I even be the princess of?" she forced a chuckle, failing miserably and hiccuping. 

Hux offered a gentle laugh, the first bit of true warmth she felt, coursing all the way to her numb toes. The girl leaned into his shoulder, setting her head against the frigid green beskar, shivering slightly. "When you don this helm there are rules. You cannot take it off in front of any living thing - except for your _buir, ad,_ and future _riduur.._ . Paz is your _vod_ , so he would be an exception as well. You may call other Mandalorians _vod_ , but they are not the same as him. You will be a Vizsla from now on. Do you understand, _verd'ika?"_

“Wha-what does all that mean?" 

Hux translated the Mando'a to her and comprehension dawned on her face. Only immediate family could see her face going forward, which would only be Hux and Paz. He explained the Resol'nare, which was a code of Six Actions that the Mandalorians lived by: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, their language, and their leader. Well, now that would also apply to her and she had to hold them to the highest regard and strive for perfection. The soft daydreams she'd had, wondering what Mandalorian life was like only to find herself unwillingly thrust into their civilization. Despite how jarring it was, Faylen felt slightly hopeful, glad that she wouldn't be alone and left to fend for herself. While her heart still hurt, at least she had something to look forward to. 

"Is this to be my helmet?" she pointed down at the dark beskar, which he had a tight grip on. 

"Yes, but before you don it, why don't you get cleaned up. It'll be too big for you and we need to find a way to make certain your ears don't get beat up inside the bucket," Hux set her back down on her feet, pulling out a set of black clothes which had been folded neatly. "They will probably be too big, but it's better than that-" he gestured to her blood stained smock. "Fresher is right around the corner."

Loading up the clothes in her arms, she went into the fresher and glanced in the mirror. Staring back was a ghost of a child, her tanned skin pale and clammy, goddess makings so translucent that they were barely visible beneath the crumbling flakes of blood. Parts of her hair were mattered with more of the dried liquid, creating a womp rat's nest on the side of her head where she'd slept against Paz's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and red, still damp and irritated looking. A new way of nausea and despair hit her as she looked at herself, the last few pent up tears leaking out as her chin trembled. Starting the shower, she peeled off the disgusting nightgown and sat on the floor, clutching her knees and rocking quietly as the gentle rain of the water plastered her hair around her in a soaking wet curtain. Finally, she stood up and grabbed the soap, resigning herself to lazy scrubbing as it felt weird to not have help; Merith had almost always been there to assist with her back. Now Merith was dead... probably.

After getting out of the shower, she dried off and put on the new clothes, which appeared to be similar to the clothing that the Mandalorians wore beneath their armor. The pants were much too long, wide around the hips, and the shirt bulky, falling down to her knees. Faylen managed to roll the hem of the pants and shirt sleeves, securing the belt around her midsection to keep the two in place. Balling up her ruined shift, she left the fresher behind and found the Vizslas sitting by a low table, helmets turning in her direction. 

" _Verd'ika_ -" Hux motioned her over, holding up a makeshift bandana that appeared to be made of a ripped shirt sleeve rolled up and stretchy, so that it could fit over her head. He adjusted it, pushing her hair out of her face. The soft fabric pinned her long ears against the side of her head, smothering them in a tight embrace. "You will need a new name. Faylen is too unique," he informed her, continuing to adjust the headband until it covered most of her scalp and comfortably tucked her ears away. 

"Something Mandalorian?" Faylen suggested quietly as she was handed an elastic band. Without needing to be told, began plaiting her long, thick hair, tying off the end. 

"Do you have any ideas? You should pick your own name," Hux said, turning over her helmet to add a little extra padding along the inside. "Is there anything... a word or feeling that means a lot to you?"

There were many things on Anaxes that meant a lot to Faylen. From the forests and glades, to the evening sky dotted with stars. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft hum trying to decide which meant the most. A name too similar to her lost home would be a painful reminder each time it was spoken, a dull throb in her heart as she thought about her Papa and the life she could have had if the Empire had not stolen that from her. "Is there a word for song?" A new life, a new song - just like the birds outside her balcony that she'd listen for in the morning. 

" _Laar_?"

Faylen shook her head, not liking the sound of that. "Or bird?" She was flying away from home to find a new place, migrating like the paradise birds that would go to the mountains in the summer and return to Genmaris during the autumn. Only, Faylen would probably never return. 

" _Senaar_."

" _Senaar_ ," she repeated quietly, closing her eyes and imagining the verdant plumage chased by sunset oranges and ambers. "Senaar," she decided more resolutely. Faylen was a bird now. Not a paradise bird. If she had stayed on Anaxes she could have been one, gilded and pretty. Now she was more like a bird of prey. She was going to be Mandalorian after all. "Sena for short?"

" _Sen'ika_ ," Paz rumbled, slightly amused. "Little bird."

"Little," she snorted, finally finding the heart to smile faintly.

"Tiny," Hux agreed, turning toward her and offering the helmet. "It is time."

"Time?"

" _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad,_ Senaar Vizsla," he bent down, touching his helmet to her forehead. A wave of emotion consumed her, choking her up as if dark, churning water were drowning her. Despite the fact that all it was was cold metal on her brow and words she did not understand, she knew her new name when he spoke it. The tightness of his fingers on her shoulder, the promising tone of voice - the promise that she'd never be alone despite all that she had lost. Papa had made certain she was in good hands, hands that would never let her go, despite their differences. Soon, those differences would be scattered amongst the ocean - lost to the tides of change as the gaps were bridged and she became just another visor amongst many. 

" _Ni kyr'tayl gai vod,_ Senaar Vizsla," Paz spoke next, drawing her attention from Hux and over to the young man who was to become her brother. "Call my _ori'vod_ , it means big brother."

" _Ori'vod_ ," she repeated. There had been times where she'd dreamed of having a sibling, older or younger. A small, but characteristically dopey smile plastered itself to her face as she realized what she had gained in the shadow of her loss. "Then... you were calling me little sister before? _Vod'ika_ ? Because little bird is _Sen'ika_."

"She's a natural," Paz crooned to their father. 

"Smart kid. At least you have some brain cells. Might have to make up for your _aliit_ every so often," Hux joked, tapping her head with his helmet again. "Now, let's see how this fits and we can make some adjustments."

Lifting the helmet up, Faylen - no... Sena - placed it on her head. The wrappings on her head did well to keep her ears from flopping around. She hissed slightly, the tips still getting pinched near the crown where there was little to no padding. Despite it, she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the inside. A hydraulic hiss was followed by a click, the vocoder whizzing with her heavy breathing. She could not smell anything other than the beskar, which had a slightly acidic and cool aroma. Her view from the visor was distorted, illuminated as she saw the entire room through a filter. The lights weren't as keen, but the edges of the ship, the corners chasing away shadows in the same method her eyes could naturally adjust.

"How does it feel?" Hux inquired, making her jolt slightly as the visor shifted with a pulsing analytical wave, shifting to the sound of his voice, informing her that he was 70% questioning, 20% concerned, 10% unreadable. 

"It can-" she was startled again, her voice coming out modulated and rather airy like a little whizzing fairy, high pitched and obnoxious.

"Ah, hold on, that's not a good setting. Sova always had a deep voice," he grumbled, reaching up to fiddle with a sensor on the side of the helmet. "Try again?"

"It can read emotions in the voice?" The modulator was closer to her own voice now, but there was still a mechanical ring to it, making her sound much colder than typical. Interesting. Was the purpose to obscure their true voice to keep it from being analyzed by enemies? Or perhaps the purpose was to seem scarier and less mortal. 

"Yes, among other things. How does it feel?"

"It needs more padding around-" she lifted her hand and patted the spots where the tips of her ears were pinned. "-there and there. Pinching."

"Off it goes-" he reached for it, but gave her a meaningful tilt of his helmet. "Remember what I told you. No one other than the two of us can see your face, Sena. Anyone who tries to do this-"

"Stick em!"

  
Hux chortled, her helmet reading that he was mostly amused before he disengaged the seal and pulled it off. "You're going to do well, _verd'ika_."

* * *

_**Translations** _

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child

Ni kyr'tayl gai sibling - I know your name as my sibling

Aliit - family/clan

Verd'ika - little soldier

Gai bal manda - adoption ceremony

Ad'ika - little one, daughter, son

Buir - parent

Jetii - Jedi

Vod - sibling

Ad - son/daughter

Riduur - spouse

Copikla adiik - cute child/kid

Vod'ika - little sibling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow the journey on tumblr @spc4eva - disclaimer, I have no idea what the heck I'm doing on tumblr so bear with me.
> 
> Note for this chapter: I have my own interpretations of helmet removing and to me, it doesn't make sense that adopted children wouldn't also see their parent's face. Thus, the same applies to adopted siblings. The fine line I guess I contemplated is WHEN they would stop showing their faces to one another, but I like the idea that they will always show faces to one another. Y'know, having Sunday dinner is a bit difficult when you can't take your helmet off with your sister and her riduur. Thus, anyone who marries into the family/their children would have the luxury of seeing their in-laws as long as they've come to this agreement and are comfortable doing this. Vod outside of the family - meaning comrades or sister/brothers (not in the same clan) - would not be given this luxury.


	2. The Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Vizsla returns to the Tribe and Senaar settles into her new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 15, 125
> 
> EDIT 1/29: Added more additional tags because this be how life be. Chapter 4 will be a lot time skips/aging through life to include catching up to canon. Canon is going to be semi-canon but also not. Then the smut I said wasn't gonna happen will probably happen. I am weak willed. Thanks. Love you all. Enjoy.
> 
> Just some more info about the Anaxian race that I've created!
> 
> An offshoot of the Sephi race, removed by generations of evolution based on Anaxes' climate. 
> 
> Appearance: Humanoid, sub-human, differentiated by long pointed ears (longer than most Sephi) which are hyper sensitive to the forests that they dwell in. Skin tends to be tan to dark, though there are a few fairer skinned Anaxians. Sunlight is powerful, despite the forest, which is why the melanin in their skin tends to be strong to act as a buffer when they leave the woods or are in glades. Eye hues range in earth tones, mostly brown, but a few are green. Gold is another color, while a bit rare and considered blessed amongst the people. Royalty almost always has the golden eyes. Hair color is also dark, from jet black to medium brown. Blonde, red, and light brown hair is almost unheard of and incredibly unnatural amongst Anaxians. On average, they get to the same height as humans, but tend to be more slender and willowy. Anaxians eyes work well for the dim lighting of the forest acolves and long nights. They have the ability to see in little to no light, but not utter darkness. Due to their lighter bone structures, Anaxians are quicker and more agile than other races, making for spectacular warriors should they have the inclination. Light footed from years of hunting in their forests, they are exceptionally gifted with stealth and able to fight with acrobatic feats. Despite these abilities, Anaxians have the drawbacks of being more frail than other humanoid races. For their speed and stealth, they are more easily overwhelmed by strength.
> 
> Goddess Marks/Tears: markings on the skin of Anaxians which are similar to beauty marks. Rather than be dark, these marks are the size of tears and shaped the same. Sometimes they are also referred to as petals. Each mark is gold, humming with a shimmering iridescence which is contrasted by an Anaxian's dark complexion. Most Anaxians have between 5-10 marks, though those descended of purer bloodline - ie. nobles or royalty - often have more. They are not tattoos and are on an Anaxian from birth. Those that possess a lot of them are considered 'Chosen' by the Goddess, especially if the marks play out in a more purposeful manner than just sporadic petals against the skin, placed randomly. Some Anaxians get more tattooed on them in an attempt to seem more special and it's not uncommon. However, the tattoos don't have the same glow as the natural marks. Often Anaxians will use the tattoos to link their marks together in designs. 
> 
> Note: Anaxians are not long lived like Sephis. They live 80-100 standard years on average. Anaxians do not reach sexual maturity until 20 years old, taking a little longer to grow through their adolescence into adult bodies.
> 
> Anaxians are also not well traveled. They don't like to leave their home planet often. Pure Sephis often call them forest bumpkins, so there's a little love lost between the similar races.
> 
> Most of Anaxian culture was inspired by wood elves from Lord of the Rings with a mixture of Celtic heritage. 

Inspiration photo for Anaxians (and Sena specifically) is [this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/af/48/db/af48db0234e08eccde949d96a7350911.jpg). 

* * *

The helmet was more comfortable with the padding, but she wasn't forced to wear it much around the ship with her  _ aliit. _ Senaar Vizsla. She repeated it numerous times in her head, staring at the ceiling as she cocooned herself in a pile of blankets on the floor. Hux, her  _ buir _ now, told her not to dwell too deeply on what had happened on Anaxes. He'd said that nothing could be done and carrying that in her heart would just hurt. When she asked about her papa, he explained that he was marching far away, but one day she'd see him again. He taught her the prayer to say every night before bed and that more names would join her papa's, but it was her duty to remember them and love them. Sena was fully committed to becoming Mandalorian, even if she was a bit nervous and frightened by the shock of everything that had happened. Be strong. Papa would be watching and she had to make him proud... _ buir _ and _ ori'vod  _ too. 

" _ Sen'ika _ ," Paz entreated, drawing her attention as she leered at the ceiling of the ship, hiding in her blankets as if it were a toasty little garrison. Hyperspace was cold, much colder than most of Anaxes' yearly climate. "Come sit over here."

Dragging her blankets with her, helmet nestled against her tummy, she sat beside Paz and eyed what he was working on. Set in front of him was the rifle he had used during their escape from Genmaris. Now, it was in several pieces, he had a cloth and swatches of cotton, many of which were stained with blaster residue. He was cleaning the weapon.

"Have you ever taken one apart before?" Paz inquired lightly, gazing down at her with icy blue eyes. Despite how shockingly pale his eyes were, they were still kind and warm. He had short blonde hair, messy from his helmet, and was probably not much older than her despite his height and fitness. 

"I know how to take the slide off of my pistol, but I've never taken it apart like this," Sena admitted, cheeks burning as she wondered if she was severely behind in her knowledge. What if the other children made fun of her? What if she was stupider than kids a lot younger than her? Would her  _ buir  _ disown her? Take the helmet back and tell her to get out?

"Most firearms are the same aside from the coils in buttstocks of rifles and shotguns," Paz eased, sensing the girl's worry. "You will need to know not only how to fire your weapons, but how to clean them and assess any issues you may have while firing. Weapons are our religion, so we must take good care of them to protect our people. Now, let's begin-"

Paz showed her the various pieces of the rifle, the charging handle, the bolt, where cartridges were loading. There were bits of information that were familiar, as there was some overlap from what she knew about her pistol. Having her hands on it, manipulating the pieces, putting them together and taking them apart - everything clicked rather swiftly. The visual and physical method of learning, rather than out of a holobook, took repetition and application. The distraction was greatly appreciated and Sena was keen to prove that she was a quick learner.

They moved onto a blaster, Hux dropping down from the cockpit, cocking his head as Sena cleaned the weapon. "I thought I told you to clean them," he said, directing his attention toward Paz.

"I can help!" Sena insisted quickly, before Paz even had the chance to offer.

"I thought she should begin her lessons," her  _ vod  _ retorted, stiffening under the tart gaze of their  _ buir _ .

"Teach yes, but don't let her do all the work. I assigned you this task," Hux reminded him duly, looking to Sena next, who jolted erect under his pale gaze. "Let your  _ ori'vod _ finish the rest. Come along, there are many things you need to learn, ad'ika."

More distractions. Scampering up from her blankets, she followed her  _ buir  _ deeper into the ship and away from Paz as he was left by the armory. This part of the  _ Kote  _ was filled with weights, a pull up bar, a sparring dummy, thick padded mats, and other work out items. " _ Buyca _ ." Bucket.

Sena slipped it back on and fiddled with her belt, making certain that her belt was tight enough to keep the extra material from her clothes from tripping her up. 

"I am going to test your strength and endurance levels," Hux alerted her. "I know that you had some training in combat."

"A little," Sena confirmed, but knew her knowledge certainly quailed in comparison to Mandalorian standard. 

Hux began prattling off exercises. He started with pushups, which weren't too hard. Sena was tiny and her limbs short. She ran around through the woods often and handled her own body weight. Capable of pushups and a few weak pull ups, she hung upside down from the bar like a monkey, braid swaying behind her as her  _ buir  _ remarked quietly to himself. Apparently, she was not too bad off, her excursions outside of the castle leaning well with her heritage as an Anaxian. Small, compact, ready to spring like a viper; she was putty to be molded. Her hands had callouses from where she'd climbed trees, tearing the soft palms and pads. Her feet were rough from trolloping barefoot, which would ease the pain of wearing boots and the callouses that would form on top of her soles. 

And the girl could run. Around the drill shed floor, without reprieve, puffing out of her vocoder and using the boxes as obstacles. The original doubt that Hux had about taking a princess in was vanishing. Even if she might feel a little out of place amongst the Mandalorians due to her upbringing, Ardryll had not lied about her being well suited for training. The right disposition could be developed and she still had many years ahead of her before she would become a hunter. Most of all, the girl was eager to prove herself, hanging onto every word that came out of Hux's vocoder, the analyzer picking up the earnesty and excitement in her voice. 

They had five more days on the ship before they were to touch down on Vorpa'ya and rejoin the Tribe. Even if the child was tired, she got up early and helped out as much as she could. It was plain she didn't know how to do many mundane tasks, given that servants had done this for her during the course of her short life. The Vizslas were patient with her, having to teach her how to turn a burner on, how to properly fold her clothes, how to wash them, how to tidy up after herself, how to be more considerate of those she was sharing space with. Hux was thankful they had the ship to do this on, glaringly aware that the girl would be tossed right into training with peers of a similar age and set before the Council before the Tribe welcomed her. 

Hux's nerves faded, glancing fondly over in the direction of the plum helmet as the child bent over with his son, trying to stitch together where they had cut up her shirt in an attempt to take it in so it wasn't so baggy. Her fingers quaked and she gasped again, pricking her thumb for the umpteenth time. Despite fussing at his son before, Paz took to the girl like a womp rat to filth and was thrilled to have someone to take under his wing. It was difficult not to and Hux grudgingly admitted that to himself often at the kid's heart. She didn't give up. Settling back in his spot by the table, he wondered what Sova would have thought of the girl.

_ She would have loved her,  _ he reasoned silently. Anaxes was gone. Having turned the news on in the cockpit long enough to hear about the sweeping of the Empire through the galaxy, his insides had gone cold when he saw the information regarding Anaxes. After resisting the Empire, there was a reactor failure in one of the shipyards that detonated a stockpile of hypermatter. Whether this was accidental or the locals had decided that they wouldn't allow for Anaxes to be used as a pivotal anchor point, Hux could only speculate. All that remained of the planet was an asteroid belt, wiping away the beautiful forests that Genmaris had been tucked along. As far as anyone was concerned, the Anaxian princess had been on the planet during the cataclysm. 

Her anonymity was more important now. Her long ears and Goddess Tears would be easily recognizable. 

_ Damn Jetii, you knew. You knew all along what was coming and how she'd have to be hidden _ , Hux cursed. Originally, he had been vexed by the arrangement, held by his debt to the Jedi. Take a princess and make her Mandalorian? He'd scoffed at the idea, but knew in his heart he couldn't abandon a child to an abysmal fate. There had been many others who had likely died on Anaxes, but Hux couldn't have saved them all. At least one would live to have a family and he could have a hand in raising her. Paz had already detailed that the little bird had attacked a trooper like a rabid massiff, flying out from the shadows and puncturing the small exposed bit of his throat. While still clumsy, the girl had managed to buy Paz time and kill the soldier.  _ Potential _ . The girl had a lot of potential.

That potential was shadowed by her naiveness, but she'd grow wiser with age. 

"I look lumpy," Sena had her shirt on, the poor stitching bunching up around her midsection and zigzagging where she'd not kept the line straight. 

"Could use some work," Paz admitted honestly, pinching at the fabric to attempt to tug the bundling seams down. "Don't worry, there will be clothes that fit you amongst the Tribe. You'll also get some leather  _ beskar'gam _ , which we'll put the _ jai'galaar _ eyes on."

_ Jai'galaar  _ eyes or shriek-hawk eyes were the original clan sigil of the Vizslas. It had been used for the Death Watch in the more recent years, disparaged and spat upon by many other Mandalorians for the Sith that Hux's brother Pre had unleashed on their home world. Originally, Hux had helped try to retake Mandalore, before realizing how wrong he had been about forcing the Resol'nare on people who wanted to live peacefully. His own commitment did not circumvent how sacred he held the lives of Mandalorians, even if they were considered  _ dar'manda _ . Pre had not agreed, saying that the  _ dar'manda  _ would submit or die. 

After being spared by the  _ Jetii _ , Arydryll, he removed the blue and white paint of the Death Watch and returned home to his son, uprooting their life and moving amongst the Tribe where they were accepted with open arms under the condition that they did not remove their helmets. This dedication to the Resol'nare attracted him; the ideal lifestyle he had hoped for all of Mandalore. Yet, he knew their little covert was one of few and he cherished what they had found. Here, he could live as he wished, but without forcing it on those who did not possess the same dedication to the Resol'nare. Hux did not want glory or to partake in the fight against the Empire, he desperately wanted peace. Here, Paz would be able to learn and supply for his people. There were always threats, as being Mandalorian came with its own clauses, but the covert had escape plans if the need for relocation arose. 

" _ Sen'ika _ , go work on your combat drills on the practice shed floor," Hux thrummed eventually as the girl continued to fiddle with her awkwardly sewn clothes. 

"Yes,  _ buir _ ," she answered obediently, trotting off without needing to be asked again. 

Paz tilted his helmet, staring over at his father. Questioning.

Once the child was safely out of earshot, he let out a low sigh. "We will be landing soon and you know what'll happen. The Council will want to meet her and then introduce her to the Tribe," the man started, earning a nod of comprehension. "We will not be telling them where she is from."

"We are going to lie to the Tribe?" Paz asked, voice hitching in disdain.

"No, we are going to omit information. The less people that know who she was and where she is from means the Tribe shall be safer. Anaxes is nothing but rubble and asteroids. No one shall see her face aside from us until she marries and by that point, no one will be looking for her. Until then, it is for the Tribe's best interest that we are as nondescript as possible in regards to her heritage."

"Understood... Have you discussed this with,  _ vod'ika _ ?"

"Yes, she fully comprehends the importance of being ambiguous with the Tribe. As far as they know, she's from Naboo."

"A little Naboo child who can jump and do acrobats better than the rest of them?" Paz pointed out, harping upon the natural gifts lended to her from being Anaxian. 

"It explains her accent and education. They will not start her training out too difficult, as they'll want to test her to get a better idea of what age group to place her with. She still has a lot to learn in order to be as well prepared as others her age."

"Hm," Paz hummed in disagreement. "Maybe in Mando'a and hand to hand combat, but she knows how to hold her own. The others will come quickly enough."

"Keep a close eye on her. There will be an adjustment period, even if she is doing well with just the both of us," Hux warned. In the privacy of the  _ Kote _ , she felt comfortable with her new clan. Amongst the Tribe, she'd be faced with unfamiliar helms, various trials, and an entirely new setting. He worried how she would react, that the comforting embrace of the ship being ripped away from her might cause her to falter. It was all she had come to know after leaving her home world and acknowledging her past life was dead. Even the most resilient children needed time to recover and whilst she was putting on a brave face, it would only take one misstep for her emotions to finally catch up with the swift pace she had set. Hux was expecting a breakdown of enormous proportions in the coming days. 

"Of course, she's my  _ vod'ika _ . I'll not let anything happen to her," Paz swore, the oath so deep and intended that Hux smiled. This was the Way.

* * *

Vorpa'ya was coated in lolling hills rustling with tall green grass. Not a tree in sight, the plains spreading onward, and the sun pelting down across the landscape to catch the glimmering shift of the wind through the grass. So open and exposed, so strange and unfamiliar as large brown herbivores meandered the grass. They had four pronged horns that cradled their faces, mooing quietly as they gnawed on the vegetation and trotted along. Despite the sun's glare, the temperature was mild and the wind chased away any discomfort the sun's smile might provide. 

Dome shaped homes littered the largest hill, cresting upon it like little green dimples. The steel had been thatched with grass, which grew tall and swooned in the wind. From above, the houses would be impossible to discern from the rest of the rolling land of Vorpa'ya. Between the homes, the people milled around - the Tribe. Beskar helmets painted in various hues, visors shifting between T and Y-shaped, and daily life gliding forward, seemingly untouched by the war that ravaged the galaxy. The people were not ignorant to it, as each Mandalorian donned at least three weapons a piece, the hunters even more, but they were careful, meticulous, and on guard. Any day, their little village could be disrupted and they were prepared to fight and escort the children far away to relocate the covert.

Following awkwardly between Paz and Hux, Sena's head swiveled around. Visors tilted toward her, noticing the new bucket amongst their Tribe, and greeted her  _ aliit  _ in kind with, " _ Su cuy'gar _ " and " _ Su'cuy _ " from a few very small children who did not wear helmets. Even if this was not the comforting forest, Sena's heart burned in her chest, warmed by the atmosphere, and she smiled stupidly beneath her helmet as she offered a few little waves to children running underfoot. Some attacked Paz, forcing the trio to stop as a child collided with her shins.

"Hello," Sena chimed, looking down into the bright blue eyes of a twi'lek boy. 

"You're new! Who're you? I like your bucket. It's a pretty color," the boy was no more than five and tugging at her trousers.

"My name is Senaar," she bent down toward the grabby hands and picked him up, a little surprised by how much he weighed. She'd already committed, so she huffed him up onto her hip and let him tug lightly on her long, black braid. "What's your name?"

"Zim!" he squealed, palming her helmet and pushing his brow against hers. Sena knew that this was a keldable kiss and was exchanged between family and lovers, but didn't know what to do when a child was doing that to her. The big blue eyes opened, pinning her reproachfully, and he butted her more forcefully - demanding reciprocation.

"Bonk," Sena muttered, offering him a small headbutt. 

Zim giggled delightedly.

"Run along now, ade. Lalli is undoubtedly looking for you little womp rats," Hux scolded, but there was no spice or menace in his voice. 

" _ Sen'ori _ , come play with us later?" Zim asked quickly, knowing the moments he had with her were numbered to the second. 

"Uhm," she was bending down to put Zim back on his feet. "If it's allowed..."

Paz gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "I can show you the town and nursery later," he told her, Zim galloping off with the other younglings before they were allowed to continue their passage amongst the covert. "Do you have a lot of experience with children?"

Her cheeks burned and she shook her head. "Not really. There weren't that many kids around... there. And if there were I wasn't really allowed near them. Not because I'd get in trouble, but mostly just social standards. No little cousins or anything like that." 

The nicest thing about this village was that there were so many people to talk to, to not treat her like a princess, and estrange her due to her status. People always dreamed about being a princess, but most of her friends had been written in the pages of books. Everyone in Genmaris had been wary about offending her, even though Sena tried not to come off as rude or cold. Just the brush with the children made her ecstatic, because she'd never experienced anything like it. Little Zim had forced himself into her arms and stolen two keldable kisses and he barely knew her. What would everyone else be like?

"You'll get the hang of it. Zim was rather taken with you," Paz assured her.

"I hope so. If we have time, I think I would like to go to the nursery," Sena insisted, licking her dry lips beneath her helmet as they approached the largest domed structure, which was located at the epicenter of the camp. Two grand doors were propped open, leading into a cavernous room that pelted warmth. Situated in the center was a circular hearth where pale white blue flames lanced up the rim, stabbing up like daggers toward a range hanging from the ceiling that filtered any smoke and helped contain the immense heat that wafted from the fire. Seats were arranged against the wall, curving into the structure in the form of benches, where dozens of adults could sit around the forge. 

Dozens were not there now, only a few. Immediately, her eyes sought out the most imposing of the crowd, a broad Mandalorian in soot black painted armor. He had a hammer in his hand, pausing to watch them carefully, his visor framed by white so that it was distinguishable from the darkness of the rest of the armor. On the other side of the forge was a female with a golden helmet, who appeared to be helping him, the crown fringed with short horns. 

"I have not seen that helmet in a long time," the black-painted Mandalorian declared in a deep, resonating voice that echoed throughout the hall like ocean waves crashing against a rocky coastline. "A Foundling, Vizsla?"

" _ Elek _ , Smith," her buir stepped forward, brushing his hand along her shoulder and bringing her forth with him. "Senaar."

Uncertain of what to do, since she was no longer a princess, she simply stood there stiffly. Her helmet wasn't reading the Smith's voice very well, coming up as unknown. 

"She is Mandalorian?" the Smith inquired, cocking his head slightly.

Sena was getting better at reading body language. Despite the fact she had seen Paz and Hux's faces, they tended to still move around as if they were wearing their helmets. Body language spoke volumes and the questioning turn of a helmet was already ingrained in her brain. She still had to learn the other nuances.

" _ Cin vhetin _ ," Hux offered simply. "I have renamed her."

"Welcome to the Tribe, Senaar of Clan Vizsla," the Smith greeted, visor skimming over her frame. "It appears you are in dire need of proper attire. Armorer, could you please assist in getting our new  _ vod  _ outfitted?"

The golden helmeted female stepped forward, bending down slightly to lift Sena's arms and take a few measurements. Her fingers picked at the atrocious stitching that Sena had managed and she murmured quietly to herself. "I should have things that fit you,  _ vod _ . Come along."

Despite the encouragement from the young woman, she threw her head toward her  _ buir _ , who gave her a nod. Allowed to follow the Armorer, they entered a back room in the hall. Considerably smaller, but chocked full of supplies to include various ingots of steel, most of durasteel, some of beskar, cloaks, boots, trousers, shirts. This was a supply closet, most of the attire dark and earth toned. A warrior's armor was where their personality was displayed in the colors in which they chose to paint it. She noticed that the Armorer's bucket was not painted, but shimmered gold. Sena wondered what color was beneath hers, but hadn't thought to touch the plum paint.

Pulling a few tops out, the Armorer decided which size would work best and began to create a pile for Sena. Boots, socks, underwear, and gloves were added to the ensemble. Finally, she pulled a few leather vests out, tightening it around Sena's frame to make certain it fit. 

"This will be your armor until you can hunt and earn your own," the Armorer explained, adding leather vambraces and leg pads. "Get changed up and I will show you how to adorn them."

Sena was worried that the Armorer would wait nearby, but the female was discreet and stepped out of the supply closet to let Sena change in privacy. Discarding her frumpy, borrowed attire, she swapped it for clothing that fit much better. The pants were a little long still, but at least they didn't require a belt to keep up. The fabric was dark brown like dirt, the neckline curving up to hide her throat entirely. With gloves, knee high boots, a belt, with pouches - she stood there awkwardly trying to figure out what to do with the cuirass. 

"Armorer?" she called tentatively, the gold helmet popping back in the doorway at the sound of her name. 

"See these here?" the Armorer touched her gloves to the loops on the suit she was now wearing. "The armor attached to these points. Let's begin with the cuisse and greaves," sitting her down on the bench, she began strapping up the leather pads over her thighs and against her shins. "The cuirass or heartplate straps in on its own. Since it is not steel, it'll be a little tighter than beskar. Next, we have your vambraces, which will act as a point of defense. This is the first item you should craft of beskar," she tied the laced, the leather polished, but missing any of the tiny buttons that Hux had on his. "And your pauldrons will be where your clan sigil is displayed. For Vizslas, that is the shriek-hawk eyes."

" _ Ori'vod _ said he would help me paint it. Am I allowed to paint the leather? I don't want to get in trouble-" Sena's fretfulness caused her to begin babbling much too quickly, earning a light chuckle from the Armorer.

"The armor is yours now. You are allowed to paint it, though leather does not hold the paint as well as steel. During your training is it very likely to chip and peel," the Armorer informed her kindly. "But you should add the shriek-hawk eyes."

Sena wagged her head in agreement, thanking the Armorer before picking up her bundle of clothes and her extra set of boots. Hugging the supplies to her chest, she trundled out of the supply room to see a few other Mandalorians poking around. People had wandered into the hall. Immediately, they looked toward her, causing her to freeze where she stood and drop a boot. The sole colliding with the ground echoed throughout the cavernous hall and interrupted all conversation. Sena wanted to faint, shaking like a leaf.

Bending down, she battled with the edge of the boot before managing to snag it and toss it back on top of her pile. All but running over to Paz, she tucked toward his side and glanced around anxiously. Sena wasn't shy, but she'd also never seen Mandalorians before the Vizslas and now she was in an entire village of them. On top of that, she wanted to impress them and not make them regret taking her in. The sheer weight of wanting to be as good as possible made her quiver anxiously a bit. Being a princess wouldn't win her any brownie points and as far as they knew, she was from Naboo. 

"Much better," Paz said, looking down at her new clothes and armor. "A full Mandalorian now,  _ vod'ika _ -" he elbowed her lightly, nearly sending all her belongings flying from her hands. "The Elders want to meet you. Let me hold these for you and then we'll get the chance to drop them off at home."

Elders? They sounded mighty important. Sena swallowed the impossibly large lump in her throat and gave Paz a mute nod, passing over her supplies. She gave herself a minor pep talk, rationalizing that this couldn't be anymore intimidating than the vipers in the court. Even if she was unable to see their faces, at least they'd all been rather cordial with her until this point. Direct, straightforward, no beating around the bush. It was so unlike the climate she was accustomed to and while she liked it, she felt woefully ill prepared. Being guarded was so much easier, as was not taking most people at their word. 

Arranged in the seats nearest to the forge was a council of seven - to include the Smith who sat amongst them. Most of the members had on armor, though there were two Elders, so old and fragile looking, that they did not don any armor. One was a woman who looked like a shriveled up prune, her skin hanging around her face so loose that it was difficult to tell if there were scars amongst her riddled countenance. Dark brown eyes perceived her, lancing right into her own, despite the visor that obscured Sena's.

The patriarch had a kinder expression, his face not resembling a crinkled up tissue. His skin was dark, sagging pale brows over wise irises. Braids of snow rain down his scalp and around his shoulders, a pink scar dragged along his left cheek like a bolt of lightning on a blackened field. 

Four others; a female in cyan armor, a male in orange, a male in crimson, and a male in blue and white. Each one had various markings, designs, and spots differentiating their beskar. From the years of wearing the beskar, there were gouges, scratches, and marks that they wore proudly. Vambraces varied, as did weapons, and despite the fact that people said that all Mandos were the same, modulated bucketheads, Sena saw a huge difference between each of them. Not just because of their varying colors, but the manner in which they had painted designs, or highlighted the scratches with paint to make the scars pop, or the variance in design of the cuirasses as the style had improved over the years.

"Senaar of Clan Vizsla," the patriarch had a husky voice, so deep that it sounded as if it had been dredged out of the depths of Trask's oceans. "The Tribe welcomes you as our newest addition. My name is Rhenx and I am the  _ Alor _ of the Tribe."

_ Alor  _ sounded important, but in her nervousness, she couldn't recall if her  _ buir  _ had told her what it meant. "The pleasure is mine,  _ Alor _ ," she retorted, still a bit too quickly, but was thankful her voice didn't fail her. The least her courtesy training could do for her was not make her sound like an idiot in front of the most important people in the Tribe. They were judging her at that moment, she was certain of it.

Rhenx gave an encouraging smile with pooled heat in her tummy and eased her shoulders. "Polite. Perhaps you could teach your  _ aliit  _ some manners,” he remarked, drawing a few laughs from the Elders flanking him. “Tell me,  _ vod _ , what is your ambition?”

This was a question she had not been prepped for, the helmet heavy on her head as she tilted slightly to the side and considered him for a moment. Better to think than to spew nonsense. “To have a home and family. To  _ belong _ ,” the answer was simple and yet it was all she could hope for now that her papa was gone. She’d not have many friends before and she hoped that she could change that here. 

“Not of great prowess? To be the best hunter?” Rhenx mused, his questions making her heart thump in her chest as if she were a rabbit being eyed by a wolf. 

Had she chosen the wrong words? Shuddering a breath slightly, she knew she couldn’t rescind them without looking stupid. “That too, but those come after,” she retorted, cheeks heated beneath her helmet, thankful for the mask to hide her abysmal expression.

Rhenx bellowed a laugh, making her jump. “Where did you find this one, Vizsla?”

“Naboo.”

Devoting his attention back to her, Rhenx offered another obliging look. “You have had a long journey,  _ vod.  _ We look forward to seeing you excel here. The Tribe is now your family, we take care of one another, protect one another. You will learn our ways and one day provide as your  _ buir _ provides for you.”

Out of habit and because it felt natural, Sena bowed her head respectfully and took her leave. She couldn’t get beside Paz quickly enough, feet hastened and heart beating erratically until they had left the pressure of the hall. While the meeting with the Elders had gone much more easily than she had been expecting, she had a feeling that they’d be watching for the days to come. Until this point in her life, there had been little expectations of Sena other than to sometimes be at the right place at the right time. Taking advantage as a princess, she’d been able to shirk many duties and get away with mistakes that normal people would have been reprimanded for. There was a tiny bit of regiment in her from the little combat training she did have, but drawing upon her week on the  _ Kote _ she knew that laziness and indignance would not be tolerated. Even if she was only 13, Sena was not stupid. Her frivolous years until this point were just that;  _ until this point.  _

Tingling like bad food in the pit of her tummy, she considered what might happen. Part of her was fretful that she wouldn’t fit in and that she’d be detrimentally behind the others. Not in academics, because she’d studied with tutors, but in combat. They literally breathed blaster smoke like oxygen. 

“You’re quiet,  _ vod’ika _ ,” Paz observed as they continued to bask in the glow of the sun, heading to the edge of the town. She saw a few of the cattle grazing in the distance, otherwise just an empty landscape that seemed as if it could fall into the sky. Despite having found it pretty before, Sena was suddenly anxious at how open and scarce it was. Nowhere to hide. No shadows. Just open. “Are you alright?”

“Nervous,” Sena admitted quietly, tearing her eyes away from the moors as they paused in front of a house.

“You did well. If Rhenx likes you then there’s little to worry about,” he assured her, punching the code into the door: 568768. Hissing open, he allowed her in first. 

“But I didn’t do or say much,” she pointed out, stepping down into the main dwelling area or  _ karyai _ . The large chamber was not only the kitchen, but the den, dining area, and communal resting area. She noticed to the flanks of the  _ karyai  _ that there were doors to other rooms, assuming that these were bedrooms and a fresher. 

“You weren’t a blubbering mess and you were concise and honest,” Paz countered, shutting the door and ripping his helmet off. Running fingers through his helmet curls, he cocked a smile at her that took the edge off her anxiety. “The rest you’ll have to prove, but you showed tenacity today. Seems your princess training helped a bit.”

“I  _ felt _ like a blubbering mess.” She still did, clinging desperately to her clothes as if they were her last semblance of sanity. Everything was so glaringly real now. On the ship, she’d been toiling through hyperspace and with the idea of the Tribe. In theory, it all sounded magnificent. In reality, she was terrified of letting the  _ aliit  _ down or the rest of the Tribe. There had been moments in her life where she worried about letting papa down, but she’d never cared much for what others in the court thought of her. They had never been this close of a community. Sena expected if she made one slip up the entire village would know and talk about her behind her back. Call her a dope or an idiot. 

“See, this is why I’m glad I only have one brain cell. You’re thinking too much,  _ Sen’ika _ .”

She jolted, turning her head to look at her  _ vod _ and let out a pitiful whine. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Were you ever this worried when you were a princess?”

She shook her head. 

“Being a princess seems a lot more difficult. Just be yourself… minus the royalty thing, but you catch my drift,” Paz gave her a small pep talk, bending down to affectionately butt heads with her helmet. “Come around here. The guest room is yours now. There’s not much in it, but you can make it your own-” he pressed a hand into her back and began guiding her across the  _ karyai _ and toward the first door on the left. “We can set up your own code too.  _ Buir  _ likes to snoop.”

They deliberated quietly on a code for the door before Paz set it. It didn’t strike Sena that he also knew her code, but she didn’t mind either way. What did she really need to lock her door for when she was amongst a village of Mandalorians? Just as he’d claimed, the room was nondescript. Decorated simply with a full bed, a dresser, a single night stand with an alarm clock, and a closet. There was a window which gazed out on the fields. The room itself was the size of a powder room in Genmaris Castle and lacked all the refinement and grace of her old chambers. No wood, no warmth from the shimmersilk drapes, nor the stash of holobooks or paperbacks. Putting her belongings on the quilted comforter, she reached up and pulled her helmet off, thankful to finally be able to smell and feel the atmosphere on her face. 

“The windows are shaded, so no one can see in,” Paz gestured to the glass. “Class begins at 0500 every morning except weekends. For you, that’ll be at the Junction House. Physical training starts the day, then academia, followed by a changing schedule of marksmanship, weapons courses, and other specialized courses like reconnaissance, basic medical, starship lessons… There’s a lot to list, but it’ll be handed to you piece by piece. Tomorrow you’ll get a holocard with the schedule as it changes week to week. Days end at 1500, with the exception of specialty lessons you might have once or twice a month. After end of day, you’re allowed to do what you want. Some people continue training, some people slack off, others help around the village… Ah, and there’s a Foundling shift roster. Once a week you’ll be tasked with watching the  _ ade _ . But you’re always allowed to go more if you want.”

Sena listened, nodding as she thought of the other children she’d known who had gone to boarding school. The regiment and timelines seemed similar to that, though the classes being offered here sounded way more exciting. “What do you do after classes?”

“I don’t have as many classes anymore, since I’m older and just completed my First Trial. When you’re 16 you’ll also attempt your Trial if you’re ready,” Paz revealed.

“ _ 16 _ ,” Sena gasped in horror. “That’s only 3 cycles away!”

“The Tribe will not make you do your Trial if you’re not ready,” Paz placated, but it had the opposite effect.

“Then I’ll look like an  _ idiot _ ,” Sena balked.

“You better train hard then. No more running off in the woods, shirking your duties,” he smarted, making her frown. 

“There’s not even any forests  _ to  _ explore,” she pointed out disdainfully.

“Good thing. Less distractions,” he grinned, turning back toward the door. “Put your things away and then we’ll go check out the village. Maybe you’ll even get to meet some of your  _ vod  _ before tomorrow.”

Giving her the first real private moment since leaving Anaxes, she sat on the edge of the bed and palmed her eyes. This was life now. A mundane room, no books, no friends, and no clue on how to do anything. That had been obvious on the ship when she’d not realized that there wasn’t a magical clothing fairy who picks up after her. Or that she actually had to make food when she was hungry and not just ask for it.  _ Or  _ that people didn’t like when you were a little messy. Drawing in a shaky breath, she stood up and began putting her clothes away. A new beginning. She really had to give it a try and put her heart into it, because otherwise she had nothing else. Here, she would learn life skills; how to defend herself, to supply for others, to feel a part of a community, and to build a life. Until this point in her life, Sena had never really thought much of the future aside from what she  _ didn’t _ want to do, like marry Rathas. Each stride was taken day by day and her ambitions were nothing more than mischievous fun to be had around the castle. 

Was she upset by the guidance? No, she wasn’t, but it still made her hands shake. There was no papa to defend her choices, to wash away any bad she might’ve done. Hux had already told her that she had to own up to what she did, even if she made a mistake. Honesty was paramount.

After putting her belongings away, she picked her helmet back up and went out into the  _ karyai _ . Paz held up a piece of… dessert? She didn’t know what it was other than it was layered densely, flat, and appeared to have nuts and fruit in it. “ _ Uj’alayi _ ,” he told her, offering her a piece as he scarfed his own down. 

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d not eaten much since getting off the ship and they’d been eating rations. Real food was such a comforting sight that Sena nearly cried. Biting her tongue to keep herself from being dumbly emotional over  _ cake, _ she picked up the sticky pastry and enjoyed the sweetness, the syrup, and the kick of spices that warmed her palate and hummed in the back of her throat. The  _ uj’alayi _ was amazing. However, her gloves were now coated in stickiness. Big eyes turned toward Paz, he chortled as he washed down his cake with water.

“Wash your hands,” he reminded her, as if it were so obvious - which it was - but she hadn’t thought of it just standing there like a dope.

Coming around the counter, she scrubbed her gloves free of the syrup and picked her helmet up from where she’d set it down. “Do we get to eat that everyday?”

“Our teeth would rot right out of our heads,” Paz chortled. “ _ Uj’alayi  _ is a treat. Bhone delivered this to us - the Elder in the cyan armor.”

“Oh, that was very nice,” Sena remarked, slightly disappointed that the cake was not a part of everyday cuisine. If she were still a princess, she could demand that it was. Here, she’d just look like a petulant brat. “How would I say thank you? Do I send a gift back or-”

“You could just thank her next time you see her. You’d really impress her if you said it in Mando’a. ‘ _ Vor’e’ _ would work.”

“ _ Vor’e _ ,” she repeated quietly, hoping that Paz hadn’t just told her how to say something rude to the Elder, but knew she had to trust in his guidance. He was one of few people she was somewhat familiar with around these parts and one of even fewer whose face she could see. Taking in a deep breath, filling up her diaphragm as much as she could muster, she turned her eyes to Paz. “Alright! Let’s go do things. Now it’s your turn to show me around.”

“The village isn’t half as large as Genmaris and you knew that place better than the back of your hand. Won’t take too long and then we can stop by the Nursery,” Paz picked up his bucket and slid it back on. 

Donning hers, they went back out into the village where Paz escorted her past the huts and toward the big hall that they’d entered first. That was the Foundry - the important place where all the Tribe gathered and also where armor was forged. Radiating out in a spiral where the other important buildings, which were larger than the residential homes. These included the Junction House, the School, and the Nursery - where all the children to teenagers would spend their time during typical academic hours. The Den was where the hunters met up, dropped off what they’d earned, and had a few drinks time willing. The Cache was another supply location, but it was mostly groceries and miscellaneous housing items. There was also a small mechanical hut with spare parts for the few ships the Tribe had and Med-Deck where the doctor lived. Otherwise, training that did not occur in any of the aforementioned locations were done out in the fields surrounding the village. 

Circling back around to the Nursery, they spent a little time with the children before dinner, the tykes throwing themselves at her when they found out that  _ Ori’vod _ Paz now had a sister of his own, leading them to assume that she’d be just as fun and amazing as him. The expectations made her a little dizzy, unable to heft the kids quite like Paz could, but she did manage to tumble on the floor with a few of them. Zim had all but claimed her as his own, demanding headbutts every spare second she had to breathe. So, for those brief couple of hours, she forgot about how nervous she was about her first day of school and meeting the other kids her age. According to Paz, her class was aged from 10-14. 

When they returned home, Hux already had food ready on the table, looking at them expectantly as gloves were removed and hands were washed. Plated before her was an orange-red curry, the spices making the hairs in her nose curl. The meat and sauce was piled on top of a grain. Since she was hungry, she began spooning it into her mouth, immediately regretting what she had done as her tongue went taut and began to burn as if both suns of Tatooine were sitting upon it. Eyes watering, it took every ounce of willpower not to spit it back out, the other two Vizslas watching on with absolute mirth and delight as she reached for her drink. That didn’t do any better, because even  _ that _ was spiced. 

Panic began to set in as she panted, blinked over and over again as her chest ached. 

“Giving you a  _ heturam? _ ” Paz grinned to her contempt. 

“If you’re hungry, you’ll eat it,” Hux barely looked up from his own food. 

She managed to turn over the rice and push some in her mouth which helped with the burn. Neither of her  _ aliit _ were bothered by how spicy the food was and she wondered if her  _ buir _ had purposely made hers hotter just to get a kick. By this point, her entire tongue was scorched of any taste buds, allowing her to force down a few more bites as her throat rebelled. How had they gone from uj’cake to this?

Ending the day with a shower, she wandered over to her window, her headband off and her ears finally free. Gazing out, she noticed how the moonlight dappled the grass and turned it blue like back in Genmaris. She thought that it was rather pretty how the wind would tangle its fingers through the tall fronds, scattering them in rippling ethereal waves as the moonlight highlighted them. There were no birds, no songs to look forward to in the morning, but then again… Sena was the bird now. Clinging to the edge of the window, she lingered, wishing to open it but afraid that someone might pass by and see her face. 

_ Papa, I miss you. _

\---

_ Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.  _

It was the most Goddess awful sound she’d ever heard in her life. Rolling over, she eyed the alarm clock which read 0430, blinking its red lights at her, indicating that it was time to get up. Groaning, she slapped it a few times, trying to get the atrocious noise, that sounded akin to a loth-cat being strangled, to stop. Finally, she found the button and clicked it off, rubbing her eyes as they quickly adjusted to the dim light of the room. Dawn was just on the horizon, but it was not time for sunrise for another couple of hours. Sena hadn’t slept well, her anxiety hitching with the hours and when she finally had shut her eyes, she had only gotten a couple hours. 

Changing from her pajamas - a simple pair of leggings and a t-shirt - she traded them for her jumpsuit and began fumbling at the armor. Her fingers weren’t dexterous at it yet and she kept eying the clock, realizing she was taking much longer than she should have. Tying her boots too tight, she grabbed her helmet and ran out of the room, forgetting her headband and having to turn back around to get it. Paz was already about to leave and she was frantic, sprinting to the counter to grab a piece of toast before forcing it down her gullet. Some food was better than none. 

_ Oh, Goddess. Only 5 minutes.  _

She shoved her helmet on her head and ran out of the house. Her brother was already gone. Whipping her head around she started for the Junction House, her stomach balling up, bile rising in the back of her throat as she slipped into the room just as the bell chimed. Sena was momentarily relieved until she realized she was standing by the door while the rest of the class was neatly arranged in a formation on the padded mats. A pair of adults looked her way, her fingers clasping together in front of her to prevent her from shaking. 

“Vizsla?” the male adult, in juniper blue armor inquired, his visor accented with holly red. 

“Y-yes, sir,” she stammered, stepping forward after counting 10 students sitting on the ground. 

“ _ K’olar! _ We haven’t got all morning,” the male informed her, gesturing sharply, his voice powerful and commanding.

Sena stumbled forward and waited expectantly.

“At attention,” he sighed, shaking his head at her. 

“Att-” she’d seen guards and knights snap to attention when she and papa passed by them. Comprehending what he was asking, she jolted, heels together, spine erect, chin leveled, and shoulders back. 

“And here I was thinking Hux would’ve prepared you for this. Not surprised another Vizsla is lacking brain cells.”

“Give the kid a break. It’s her first day,” the other teacher chimed, a female mando in polished sage green armor. Sena decided she liked this mando better.

“Learn fast or fall hard,” the male snipped. 

“As long as you get back up,” Sena said in a very, tiny, tiny voice. 

“What did you say?”

She stiffened, realizing she couldn’t just speak when she wanted. This was a very strange concept to her. Only speak when asked a question or given permission. Before, she’d been allowed to blabber to her heart’s content. Now she was afraid. 

The female mando chuckled. “Relax,  _ adiik.  _ Thak, cut it out with the theatrics unless you want Hux to find you later and beat you into the wall,” she soothed, turning around and tilting her visor toward the rest of the students. “Class, this is our newest Foundling, Senaar of Clan Vizsla. I expect you all to accept your new  _ vod  _ with open arms and help her learn the ropes. Senaar, do you have anything to say?”

Turning around, she glanced out amongst the unreadable visors of her peers. The rest of them were wearing leather armor as well and for once, she wasn’t the smallest one. “I just want to… say hi,” the words came out sheepish and she floundered, having not prepared to be put on the spot like this. So many other children her age. So many chances to create friendships she’d never experienced before.  _ So many  _ chances to kriff it up. A few giggled at her, which did nothing to calm her erratically beating chest. Licking her lips, she clutched her fists and hoped that this would end soon.

“Xivi, I am tasking you with looking after Senaar today and helping explain anything she might not understand during the lessons,” the female teacher declared, giving a meaningful glance toward a girl with a bright yellow bucket. 

Sena didn’t have to be a mind reader to see the slight dip in shoulders, the disappointment of having to babysit. They thought she was going to be dead weight for a while. 

“Senaar go stand beside Xivi,” the mentor ushered her off. 

Joining the other girl, her cheeks burned beneath her helmet as a few watched her step by. The moment she was beside her, Xivi tilted her head slightly. “Where are you from?”

“Naboo.”

The girl  _ sighed _ .

Kriff. What was wrong with Naboo? Grinding her teeth, Sena waited apprehensively, solid as a statue and absolutely unmoving as the teachers, Thak & Nibak, started morning warm ups. After spreading the kids out, they began with stretches so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves. This was easy enough to follow along, as were the minor exercises that followed after. Lifting her head while doing push ups, Sena was startled to see that she was actually doing quite well. A larger girl, more than a head taller than her, was struggling to get the form down. Sena supposed that her own compact form and being light due to her race assisted in the ease of these body weight workouts. She was able to push out just as many as the boys were.

“Nice form, Vizsla. Go a little lower next time,” Thak paced between the students, giving her a nod of acknowledgement which made her let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“ _ Elek _ ,” she huffed, making certain that she addressed the adult properly.

“Aya, go down to your knees and keep pushing if you’re struggling,” Thak moved onto the girl who was just in front of her. “Proper form is more important than doing full push ups.”

Most of the girls were on their knees by now, trying to shove the mats beneath them, as Sena finished off her last 10. Sitting up and tucking her legs beneath her rump, she glanced around. 

“Was your weekend too long? Did you eat too much  _ uj’alayi? _ ” Thak craned down, scrutinizing a boy with a midnight blue helmet. His voice was pensive and sharp,  _ angry  _ almost. “Just because you have days off doesn’t mean you’re allowed to slack! The future of the Tribe is here and you can’t even push out 40? Disappointing. On your feet!”

Sena jetted up, bouncing slightly on her heels as she wondered what was about to happen. By the depressed postures of the other students, she had a feeling that they were about to be punished. 

“Seems you all need to run off your sweets from this weekend-” his proclamation was met by numerous groans. “ _ Uur!  _ I’ll hear none of it. Last one to return after five laps of the covert will be stuck with cleaning duty tonight.  _ Viinir! _ ”

Buckets swiveled and feet pounded like a stampede of bantha as her peers began rushing out of the entrance. Sena nearly tripped, sputtering after them as she followed the pack, comprehending that the laps were around the village’s perimeter. Filling her lungs with air, she trotted past and set her eyes to the front. Of course she wasn’t going to be last, but she wondered if she could manage to be first. What would happen if she was the best? Did the first place winner get a reward? The loser had to clean, so she supposed at the very least she’d get bragging rights. 

Kicking her legs out beneath her, she sailed forward and caught up with a boy with an unpainted helmet, the silver beskar catching in the dull blue morning light. She didn’t speak to him, didn’t greet him, but focused on  _ beating  _ him. That way she could go home and tell Hux what a great job she had done. Running was easy, after all, she’d done it plenty of times in more hazardous landscapes, dodging roots and rocks, hills and nooks. The grass was  _ nothing _ , nor the little mounds and rises they crested and sloped across.

Five laps ended with her fighting the silver boy for the lead. Her heart burned, soaring high like a bird, her eyes stretched wide as she panted and strained for victory. Thak and Nibak were waiting by the doors, the man having his arms crossed as he tapped his foot. “Hurry up!” he intoned, despite the fact that they were the first ones back. “Djarin. Vizsla. Good job, go get a drink of water and wait for the rest of your  _ vod. _ ”

She grumbled slightly, disappointed that he’d called the boy’s name first. Heading back inside, she picked up her water bottle and flipped the straw up, shoving it into her mouth and quenching her burning throat with the lukewarm liquid. Her helmet turned toward Djarin, who was also sipping at his water. “Nice job. Next time I’ll beat you,” she said hoarsely, but in good spirits. Running was probably her favorite exercise to do aside from climbing.

“I wasn’t trying,” the boy retorted peevishly.   
  


Sena’s smile wilted on her face. “Neither was I,” she snarked, trying to sound impressive, but her voice squeaked, absolutely betraying her. Cheeks and ears heating, she sat down and muttered to herself. What was his problem? No sense of honest rivalry? She wasn’t given the time to come up with another snide remark, but she was thinking about it - imagining how she could have clapped back at him, all the clever things she could have said in place of the stupid one she’d blurted out. 

Other classmates were trailing back in, huffing and puffing, in much worse shape than the victors. Amongst the last to trot in was the girl, Aya - who had a bright hot pink helmet - and a boy called Vowr whose helmet was a splotchy grey, as if the paint had faded and he hadn’t bothered to touch it up. Routines phased into hand to hand combat, which she was  _ quite  _ nervous about. 

Paired back up with Xivi, they observed the teachers explaining simple throws and strikes, telling them to draw their punches today and aim for center mass. Eventually, they let the young teens turn back toward each other. 

“You’re fast,” Xivi commented as they began going through the palm strikes. Thrust, thrust, parry, turn. 

“I like running,” Sena shrugged, catching the strikes on her vambrace as Xivi continued her routine.

“Yeah but  _ no one  _ is Djarin fast. Gave him a run for his credits today,” she snickered, moving into a defensive position so that Sena could start her own offensive turn.

“Really? He said he wasn’t trying,” she smiled a bit at Xivi’s words. Thrust, thrust, parry, turn.

“Course he did,” Xivi snorted, shaking her helmet. “How old are you?”

“13. And you?”

“14,” Xivi answered. “I was a little bit worried about you, but you seem to be in good fitness.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to hear that,” her cheeks flushed at the compliment. 

“Little word of advice though. Careful about trying to best Djarin.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s top of the class and has been for a while. Only Kedth has come close in some aspects and the two have fought over it. Had a few duels to settle the matter-” she cleared her throat, stepping back slightly as Sena’s strike slipped through her guard and hit her chest. “Anyways, unless you want a  _ shebs _ kicking, I’d advise against it.”

“I don’t think I’m nearly  _ that _ good, but thanks for the warning. If I can just beat him at running, I think I’ll be pleased,” she admitted, clenching her fist and opening it slightly. Despite being good at physical activities, she doubted she’d come close to any of the other kids in varying subjects. There were too many topics for her to be naturally gifted with them all and she wasn’t an airhead who believed her princess upbringing made her any better. In fact, it should’ve made it worse, but at least Xivi was rather nice now that she’d warmed up to the Anaxian.

Combatives ended and they were given a short recess to get more water, have a snack, and file into the classroom. The topics of the day were geometry, galactic history, and Mando’a. Sena found the academics to be simple enough, though the Mando’a she had to take a considerable amount of notes. Most people in the room could string entire phrases together, even speak it fluently, and she was putzing around in slight confusion. Xivi leaned over a few times to translate. Lunch time came and they were allowed to go back to their homes to eat with their helmets off.

“How’s class?” Paz asked her, their  _ buir _ not home for lunch.

“Not bad, actually,” Sena revealed, chucking a dopey smile at her  _ vod.  _ “I honestly thought it was going to be worse.”

“It’s only the first day, but try not to lose that  _ shereshoy _ . You might be chipper today, but you’ll get sore eventually,” Paz reminded her in good nature. 

“Sore?” she scoffed. “I’m Anaxian, made entirely of sinew and muscle, wind playing through the trees, and verdant shadows. A little running and push ups isn’t going to break me.”

“ _ Nayc _ , you’re Mandalorian now,” Paz disagreed, tossing a look over at the clock on the stove. “A stupid, grinning pointy eared Mandalorian, but one nonetheless. Prove to your  _ aliit _ that you’ve got a few brain cells.  _ Oya! _ Don’t want to be late. Thak won’t be so nice to you if you pull that stunt again tomorrow.”

“Nice?” she squeaked in disbelief.

“You don’t want to see Thak when he’s angry.”

“He seems angry all the time!”

Paz chuckled, guiding her back out of the house as they put their buckets on. “He’s aggressive, not angry. See you after class, Sen’ika.” He gave her a slight head bump and they parted ways.

Classes after lunch consisted of marksmanship for the remainder of the day. The others were allowed to go through drills, but Nibak pulled her aside to test where she was. The sage green mando had her disassemble a few different weapons, which Sena was comfortable taking apart and putting back together. She fumbled a little bit with the coil in the buttstock of the rifle, her muscles straining as she shoved it back in, but otherwise thought she moved at a smooth pace. Not too fast, but also not dragging on. 

“How well do you know how to shoot?” Nibak inquired after they went through the weapons.

“I know how to shoot a sidearm well enough, but I’m not that familiar with rifles and shotguns,” she answered honestly. There was no point in pretending she was good at it just to eat her words when placed on the range. “My  _ buir _ showed me how to take them apart.”

“As he should have,” Nibak hummed, picking up the rifle. “We’ll start with this. Come along.”

Following the teacher away from the rest, who were doing dime and washer drills, they left the Junction House and headed out toward the range on the outside of the village and nestled down in a valley. Burms had been created out of soil and dirt, a line of target dummies set at varying distances. She noticed that some of them were droids, which could probably be turned on to move around and simulate live targets. Nibak set the rifle down on the block, muzzle down range, and handed Sena a cartridge. 

“Start with prone, which will be down here,” she got down on her belly, propping herself up slightly with her elbows, pretending to have a rifle seated against the pocket of her shoulder. 

Sena got down on the grass with her and cocked her right leg, which helped steady her balance and lifted her up. After getting a nod, she picked up the rifle, her arms quivering slightly at the weight. 

She found herself struggling to hold the weapon upright, fumbling the cartridge in, before sliding the charging handle forward. Nibak noticed her struggling. "Tuck your elbows in more, you can slide down lower in order to plant more firmly." Following the instructions, Sena found a more comfortable position, her finger flat against the side of the weapon as she waited for more instructions. "Aim for the target at 100 meters and fire."

Switching the safety off with her thumb, Sena set the cheek of her helmet against the buttstock, surprised to find that the curve fit perfectly, locking into place. Her visor adjusted swiftly to the sight picture, listing the muzzle in the direction of the target a medium distance away. Drawing her breath, she squeezed the trigger at the bottom and the weapon kicked with the fire. She blinked a few times, her shoulder absolutely raw from where the high powered rifle sat. Teeth rattled, she licked her lips and glanced at Nibak. 

"Good shot. Control the kick more so that you don't lose sight picture," Nibak eased, nodding for her to continue.

Sena fired a few more times before her shoulder began to shake. 

"Are you alright?"

Grinding her teeth, she gave a mute nod, not wishing to seem weak, but kriff it hurt. Felt as if she'd been kicked by a bantha. Volleying off a few more shots, they swapped over to the shotgun and Sena felt herself absolutely dreading have to fire it. Leaning into her shot, her grip slipped and she dropped the gun. Nibak darted forward, shoving her back away from the hot weapon, and yanked her by her raw arm. Sena was unable to stop the howl from escaping her mouth. 

" _ Verd'ika _ ! Dank farrik how much do you weigh?" Nabik hissed, snatching up the shotgun and switching the lever to safe.

Sena's hand palmed her aching muscles. "A normal weight," she muttered, realizing she was a normal weight for an Anaxian. Not a human. 

"You can't be more than 30 kilos," Nibak continued to fret, realization dawning on her. "Your shoulder-"

"I'm fine!" Sena spat irritably, upset that her arm hurt and not wishing to be treated differently. 

"Are you human?"

She sucked her teeth, having hoped that this wouldn't come up. Until now, everything else had been manageable, even the hand to hand combat. "No." Would Nibak pry? 

"That is important information, verd'ika. Will you tell me what race you are?"

She shook her head. "Sephi offshoot," was all she could supply.

"Lighter bone density," Nibak sighed. "This will affect your training."

Her stomach dropped and she pulled her hand down. "I feel fine. I can keep going. I can-"

"Stop lying, _ verd'ika _ . Trying to push your body past its breaking point will only get you and your  _ vod  _ killed in the future," Nibak started, her voice hardening and becoming crisp. No longer was it nurturing or warm, Sena quailing and sitting back on her heels as she waited to be yelled at. Instead, Nibak just shook her head. "Every Mandalorian has different strengths. You will need to play to yours. You are quick,  _ verd'ika _ . You will still need to qualify with a rifle and shotgun, but we will make exceptions to spread your testing out to prevent injury. Come along, we are finished for the day."

Even if Nibak had been reasonable in what she said, Sena's head sagged, trailing behind her teacher as she knew for a fact that others would notice her getting special treatment. She tried to blink back tears, but supposed that the helmet did her a favor in hiding them as they stung down her face. She held her lips to prevent her mouth from sniffling. Her first day and she'd already been sorted out and told she would be inferior in certain aspects. 

The class was released for the day and Sena slunk back home, not feeling up to doing anything as her shoulder hurt. Peeling off her bucket and pauldrons, she tugged down her sleeve enough to see that a nasty bruise was spreading along the inside pocket of her shoulder beside her pecs. A frustrated huff parted her lips and she rounded, kicking the frame of her bed as hard as she could. The fit was followed with a lance of pain up her leg, radiating from where her foot connected with the steel. At least it distracted her from the pain on her shoulder.

Moping in her room, she didn't go out for dinner, hearing a knock on her door. How could she face her aliit? Word probably traveled fast and they'd know that she would never be able to wield a rifle or shotgun in an adept manner. That was a huge part of an arsenal. If she couldn't even heft a rifle, it meant she'd never be allowed to touch heavy machinery for fear of it breaking her. 

The door puffed open, despite the code she had set on it, recalling duly that Paz knew it. She snatched her blanket up, pulling it up to her chin and keeping her back to the door. "Was the day that long?" he teased. "Sen'ika?"

"I'm just tired," she grumbled, her voice cracking from how parched it was from sniffling like the biggest baby in the galaxy. 

"I heard you did pretty well today. Almost beat Din in your morning run-" Paz preened, sitting on the edge of her bed. "But you need to eat to keep up your strength. Even if you're not hungry, you should try to put down some of it. It's not as spicy tonight." He patted her shoulder, making her suck in a sharp breath, her body betraying her before she could purse her lips. "Wha- Are you hurt?"

Her eyes began burning again, her teeth clenched as tight as a vise grip as she tried not to cry. Why was she such a wimp? "I'm fine."

"Senaar, if you have an injury we should put some bacta on it. You still have to go to training tomorrow," Paz was definitely frowning now, but she didn't turn to look at him. "Let me look."

She grumbled petulantly, but her brother didn't move. Instead, he waited until she was done grousing, throwing glares, and then sat up yanking down her shirt to show him the darkening bruise. 

"Dank farrik how did you get that?" he cursed, eying the nebula blossom against tanned skin.

"I was testing weapons with Nibak and one was a high caliber rifle. The kick bruised me and then I dropped the shotgun and she asked if I was human. Obviously, I couldn't lie or she'd think I was severely underweight. Now they're going to treat me different. I-I-I just told them I was a Sephi subrace, but now I can't do the same things as the others-" the words splattered out of her mouth ineloquently, absolute word vomit as she felt the bitter tears burn in the corners of her eyes. "I was doing so well today and then this happened."

"So?"

Her mouth dropped open and she glowered at him. "So? What do you mean? I'll never be as good as anyone else if I can only use pistols!"

"You're really worried about that?" Paz was staring at her honestly, his icy eyes snaring her gold. "What good are you broken? Your first day here and the teachers are already talking about your potential. No one is perfect at everything, this is a minor setback. Focus on your strengths. You're fast and can move silently, that's a skill most Mandalorians don't have - at least not naturally, they have to work for years to have that. In the meantime, stop beating yourself up over it. Your teachers are here to help you grow in the right direction and will tailor your training accordingly. Do you want to keep shooting these weapons until you fracture your shoulder?"

She shook her head. 

"Then stop worrying," he reached up and ruffled her hair. "Want to know a secret?"

"What?" she muttered.

"I sucked at reconnaissance and stealth. So terribly that I thought they weren't going to let me attempt my Trial. You know that little stunt you pulled back in the castle?" he was alluding to when she'd stabbed the stormtrooper. "I could have never done that. You are as silent as a shadow and jumped several meters like a nexu.  _ Dush'shebs _ ! You'll make an amazing _ kyramud _ one day."

"You think so?"

"I know so. But only if you eat your dinner and keep on top of your studies and practice," Paz reminded her. "Let's get some bacta lotion for that bruise."

"And food," she added, feeling a little better after Paz's pep talk. 

Sena's schooling continued and she took what Paz had told her to heart. You couldn't be good at everything and dwelling on her deficiencies would just cause her to get into her own head too much. Didn't help that this Djarin kid seemed to be good at everything, but Sena tried to ignore this fact and focus on her own training. Xivi became a fast friend and her partner for most combat drills. The canary yellow mando swiftly fell in step with her after classes, where they would practice Mando'a, since it was Sena's roughest academic subject. In exchange, she helped Xivi with her running and tried to teach her more acrobatic maneuvers with obstacles. For Sena it was easy to leap, duck, dodge, and adjust on the fly - be that midair or on the ground. This agility was quickly noticed and Xivi yearned to have even a shred of Sena's ability.

It became common knowledge that she was Sephi, which wasn't entirely true, but she didn't discredit it. She couldn't fully participate in some live fire activities, Thak let her fire a few times before putting a pistol in her hand, telling her to sharpen those skills instead. Part of her desperately wanted to be able to saddle up with one of the cool ambien rifles, but her shoulder twinged in memory of how badly the initial kick hurt her. Sidearms didn't bother her and she had a decent shot, increasing her draw and hipfire with the progressing weeks. 

Mornings were her favorite, hoping that Thak would make them run so she'd get a chance to try and best Djarin. The silver mando never spared her, or anyone, many words. He kept to himself and Xivi said he'd always been like that. Sena wondered why, since they were all  _ vod  _ and being reclusive did nothing but make the others dislike you. Did she dislike him? She didn't know him. Though the few words she did exchange with him were mostly terse and fuelled by their rivalry in fitness. 

But everything wasn't sunshine and rainbows. Falling into step quickly, adjusting with her peers, and finding a niche to occupy, she swiftly saw the weakest links amongst their group. Had she not been Anaxian and a wild spirit who had trolloped through the woods, Sena expected she might've been more ill prepared than she was. The girl who had difficulty with push ups on her first day, Aya, was amongst the struggling. Her magenta bucket was easy to pick out and it was like a beacon for Thak to hone on and chastise. Sena actually felt bad for how much the girl was picked on, told to improve... but that pity quickly faded. She'd caught Nibak offering extra lessons after their final bell, only for Aya to decline and say she was working on her own. Still, there was no improvement and she continued to get reamed out by Thak.

Eventually, about two months since Sena's arrival, Thak began comparing Aya's failures to other students. Particularly her. 

"Senaar has been here for two months and she's already outpaced you, Aya," he scolded as she continued to struggle with push ups. "A Sephi Nabooian has outpaced you."

She wondered if she should have been offended by the way he said Sephi, but supposed it didn't matter since that actually wasn't her race. Everyone knew she was featherlight by this point as Nibak had told them that no one was allowed to use full strikes during combatives for fear of someone breaking something. If the teacher's words were meant to be motivating, they weren't, and Sena's cheeks burned with embarrassment for both herself and Aya. 

Following class, she found the magenta bucket and tapped the tall girl on the shoulder. "Aya..." she cleared her throat, trying to muster her princess voice so she was as polite and courteous as possible. The girl turned, tilting her helmet down impassively - the telltale taut and bitter line of her shoulders clear. "Xivi and I are going to do some obstacle course runs today if you want to join us. After we practice Mando'a. You're more than welcome to join us today and any other day."

Aya was utterly silent, so silent that Senu realized she'd barely heard the girl speak before. Finally, "Do you think I'm _ laandur _ ?" her voice came out hot, Sena's helmet immediately picking up on the fury in the girl's voice.

"What?" Sena squeaked, throwing up her hands in a submissive manner. "N-no, I just thought you might-"

"That I need to run more? That I'm fat and slow? That you, an  _ aruetii _ , could show me the ropes?"

She had not expected this at all, her jaw dropping at Aya's harsh words.  _ Aruetii _ ? Aya had called her an outsider. "I'm trying to be nice!" she screeched, her patience vanishing like smoke dissipated by a strong gale. "I never see you practicing after class and Xivi and I are always outside. I thought maybe you wanted other people to work out with."

"Like I'd choose you or Sunshine to help me. You can't even shoot most weapons. You're not exactly the shining example of  _ mandokar _ . At least I can handle an entire arsenal,  _ vaar'ika _ ," Aya snapped, jabbing a thick finger into Sena's chest, making her stumble back. "Let's see where all the running gets you when I snipe you across the hill."

"Kriff! Fine, forget I asked," Sena hissed dejectedly, turning away and leaving Aya to her fuming. Her own heart burned, chest heaving as she stomped back home. What the hell was her problem? Did she really think that Sena was being snide? That inviting her out was going to be nothing but a chance for Xivi and her to laugh behind their buckets? Then, on top of that, Aya had gone right for the kill and insulted her. This was the first time in her life that someone had rejected her like that and Sena was trembling with unbridled rage. Had she done the right thing? Could that conversation have gone better?

"Woah look out over here, we've got a wild mythosaur on a rampage," Paz hooted as she opened the door to their  _ karyai  _ and continued to trundle in. 

"What do you know about that stupid pink bucket, Aya?" 

"Aya?" he arched a brow, setting down his blaster that he had been cleaning. "I heard that she's having some issues with her fitness."

"I invited her to join Xivi and I after classes and she bit my kriffing head off!" She plopped down across the table, removing her own blaster, deciding she should clean it while she was there. 

"Hm," Paz hummed, thinking about the subject for a little while before speaking again. "She's sensitive about it. Her  _ buir  _ didn't return from a hunt a few months before you arrived. It's been worse since then."

The blood rushed out of her face and she felt her ears sag slightly beneath her headband. Sighing deeply, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I was trying to help her," she said quietly. Now Aya's reserved nature, the quiet answers to Thak, and Nibak's offer being turned down were making more sense. "I didn't know."

"How could you,  _ vod'ika _ ? You did the right thing and tried to help her, but respect her decision to take the time she needs," Paz eased before shifting the subject. "So, I heard from the pipeline that your marks are quite high."

"Well aside from marksmanship since I can only really shoot this thing-" she bared the blaster which was already in three pieces. "Academics aren't that difficult and Xivi has been helping me with Mando'a."

"A humble princess? You surprise me again,  _ vod'ika _ ."

Humble? Papa had told her that bragging about your accomplishments would just make people dislike you. Plus, Sena knew that school and marks didn't make up for real experiences. The real tests would be the Trials which were a few years off. She could only hope that she'd be prepared enough to make an attempt at 16. Given her comfort with the current regiment, aside from her disappointment in marksmanship, Sena was hopeful that she'd be able to make it there in time. "Not humble, just realistic," she groused, blushing at her brother's words. His praise was hard earned and he always knew the right things to say to brighten her mood even when it was abysmal. 

"I wish I had that many brain cells," Paz snorted.

" _ Gar mirsh solus _ ," she countered, drawing a guffaw from him.

"Xivi teach you that one?"

"She taught me all the rude things first so that way if someone insults me, I know," she grinned, but sat back and considered what had happened. Even if Aya had lost her  _ buir _ , she hadn't needed to take it out on her. Sena lost her papa and entire life as she knew it and wasn't ripping people's throats out for offering to help. Whatever. It was over and Sena had done the right thing in being the bigger person. 

At least, that's what she thought. 

Come morning, after their initial work out, they were paired up for combatives. Partners were switched around, so that people would be on their toes not facing their typical match up. Sena was loomed over by Aya, which was fine, all it was was grappling today. Most would just be mounting, a few tosses, and domination positions and the mats were padded. If Aya was still mad at her, she could vent her frustration and Sena wouldn't blame her. Squaring up with the girl, she knew this wasn't going to go in her favor. This wasn't free fighting where she could try and coil around Aya like a snake to try and win, it was a set of maneuvers and Aya would win because she was bigger and heavier. Heck, nearly everyone in there would be Sena except for 10 year old Terri. 

Well, hopefully this goes by fast, she thought tartly, glancing over a Din and Oyiin who flanked them. 

Aya lunged first, trading a few weak blows before they toppled to the ground. Sena fought for a dominant position, but was little more than a hissing loth-cat kitten as Aya picked her up by the scruff and flung her against the floor. Air whoosed out of her lungs, but Sena recovered before the girl could mount her. She rolled out of the way, rubbing her neck where she'd collided. Not a big deal. People often forgot how small she was and underestimated their strength. Aya hadn't fought with her before, so it'd be a little touch and go.

Grappling again, Sena swiped her foot under Aya, sending her thumping down and mounted. The girl twirled, asserting dominance and flipping their positions. Sena squirmed, writhing in her grip, managing to slip the hold like an eel and jump to her feet. 

Thak and Nibak were across the room, correcting tosses. Back with her boots on the ground, Aya parried again and did something that Sena was not expecting. Her fingers grabbed the front of her cuirass before Aya checked her into the ground. All air was driven from her lungs and her head spun, choking for breath as a sharp whine crackled through her modulator. Aya mounted while she was dazed and pushed harder than she needed too to restrain her collar, air still not pooling in her lungs.

"Hey.  _ Hey _ !" 

Her ears were ringing, each blink hazy and spinning as she registered the magenta bucket casting a shadow over her. Everytime she closed her eyes, the world returned in a slow, foggy shape and Aya almost appeared as if she had two heads. 

"Get off of her!"

Aya was shoved off and she was finally able to sputter, greedily sucking at air as she tried to process what had just happened. 

"Didn't realize. She's  _ laandur _ -" Aya was speaking, crossing her arms as if she hadn't just used an illegal toss and choked the air out of her partner. 

"She barely weighs 30 kilos. What did you think would happen when you sat your fat  _ shebs  _ on her chest?"

"Watch it Djarin or you'll be next."

"What's going on over here?" Nibak trotted over, glancing between the boys and girls as Sena scrambled, finally able to sit up as the blood rushed back to her face. 

"I'm ok!" she squeaked, not wanting to get Aya in trouble. The girl had already been through a lot and tattling on her would just make it worse. "Aya bested me. Knocked the wind out of me, that's all!"

Nibak tilted her visor toward Aya, letting the tension hang in the air, before shrugging slightly. "Be careful, Aya. You know that your  _ vod  _ is smaller than everyone else."

"I know, I'll be careful next time," Aya promised dolefully.

Nibak departed and the pairs split off again, Djarin turning away and grumbling quietly to himself. His wary visor kept glancing back, as if he were expecting Aya to make a second attempt to hurt Sena. With Ninak now watching with a hawk-like gaze, the lesson continued without any further issues. They were allowed their recess before moving onto academics. Whatever frustration Aya had wanted to vent had been allowed and Sena had covered her  _ shebs  _ by not saying anything. Again, she thought it would get better, that the girl had gotten her revenge, but found herself becoming the fixations of microaggressions.

From bumping into her desk, to pushing by her every chance she got, to even yanking on her braid once, Aya did not relent. How in kriff's name was this equal to being insulted? Sena hadn't intended on insulting Aya, so what was her problem? Come the end of the school day, she was grousing to herself, trying to walk it off and be the bigger person. Eventually, Aya would realize that she was being a brat and would leave her alone. If she were back in Genmaris, she would've punched Aya already, but she still felt bad for her. Aya was probably a nice person and was just going through a tough time, Sena could certainly relate. 

"Hey," she stopped just a few houses down from the Vizsla home. Turning, she caught the glint of Djarin's silver helmet in the sun. "Why didn't you say anything? Aya has been torturing you all day."

"It's fine," Sena shrugged. "I know she's still  _ echoy'la _ ."

"She choked you this morning," he reminded her flatly.

"Not difficult seeing how big I am," she brushed it off. 

"What did you do?"

"I asked her if she wanted to join Xivi and I for our practice in the evening. She got rather upset, so I dropped it. She must've thought I was being contemptuous, but I just wanted to help her get her fitness up. We're all  _ vod _ , we've got to help each other out," she explained, taken aback that Djarin was actually interested. This was the most he'd talked to her since she had arrived. Otherwise, they exchanged taunting rebuttals while trying to outpace one another in their exercises.

"And that warrants choking?" Din inquired dryly.

"I'm not upset. Just let it go. It's not a big deal. She'll probably go back to normal tomorrow."

"And if she doesn't?"

Sena paused, having not considered this option. What if she became Aya's punching bag to get out all those frustrations? Pursing her lips she let out a sigh, which crackled through the vocoder. "I'll deal with it. Thanks for the concern, but I'll still kick your  _ shebs  _ in the morning run tomorrow."

"Yeah right."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all that's all you're getting this week. Thanks for tuning in ! Check me out on Tumblr @spc4eva
> 
> Also here's your translations!
> 
> Vod - Sibling/Comrade/Brother/Sister  
> Jai'galaar - shriek hawk  
> Buir - parent  
> Vod'ika - little soldier/private  
> Aliit - clan/family  
> Su cuy'gar - You're still alive; greeting  
> Su'cuy - Hi  
> Sen'ori - big bird; respectful older sibling name for Senaar  
> Elek - Yes  
> Cin vhetin - blank slate  
> Beskar'gam - armor  
> Ori'vod - big sibling  
> Alor - leader  
> Karyai - living area/main area of Mandalorian home for eating and resting  
> Ade - children  
> Uj'alayi - dense, sweet Mandalorian cake  
> Vor'e - Thanks  
> Heturam - mouth burn; highly sought out in Mandalorian food and indicates VERY spicy food  
> K'olar! - Come here! Get over here at once!  
> Uur - Go  
> Viniir - Run  
> Shebs - butt; ass  
> Shereshoy - lust for life that is Mandalorian  
> Nayc - No  
> Oya - Let's go! or lit. Let's Hunt!  
> Dush'sebs - badass  
> Kyramud - Assassin  
> Laandur - weak; highly insulting  
> Auretii - outsider  
> Mandokar - the right stuff; for Mandalorians  
> Vaar'ika - pipsqueak  
> Gar mirsh solus - Your braincell is lonely  
> Echoy'la - grieving, mourning


	3. Growing Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sena must conquer her first battle to fully understand what it is to be Mandalorian and not a princess. The First Trial looms on the horizon, but the galaxy is not a kind place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 15,612
> 
> Tags have been added to reflect a slight shift. I have added Reader/Din to expand the exposure of the story. PLS DON’T HATE ME.
> 
> Note: Remember that Jedi and Nobility tend to have 'English' accents. Whereas Outer Rim and regular blue collar people tend to have 'American' accents. Definitely something people would notice.
> 
> Warnings: underage drinking
> 
> Triggers: Latter part of the chapter has brief details of sexual assault (not to the main characters) please use caution.

"What's going on with you and Aya?" Xivi asked during their routine practice. The girls were hanging upside down on the pullup bars seeing who could last longer. It was always Sena, but Xivi still tried to best her. 

A month had passed since Aya began her minor infractions toward Sena. She'd been a lot more careful, especially to make a point not to use her full strength against her in combatives when they were stuck together, but there were times that the girl could've pulled her punches more. Rather than give her any satisfaction, she dealt with each blow and started to humiliate Aya when she had the opportunity to. Want to throw hard punches? Fine, Sena could dance around her like a squirrel beneath a clumsy troll. She could also strike just as hard, despite her size. The first time she'd planted a full on blow on Aya, she thought the girl was going to snitch. However, Aya kept her trap shut, thus Sena did as well.

On top of that, Aya continued to be annoying. Bumping her, tripping her, pulling her plait - anything she could do to get under her skin. Papa's words echoed through her head, words she had never heeded back in Genmaris. Be the bigger person. Never acknowledge those who bother you, in which case you'll hold the power, not them. So, she practiced her patience, each grinding, aggravating fiber of it and realized she did have power over Aya. Satisfaction would be derived from Sena throwing a fit and she had decided she wouldn't give her that luxury.

"Eh, she's still mad at me or something," Sena shrugged, trying to play it off and diminish the twinge of anxiety she felt each day wondering what Aya would try to do. 

"Over inviting her to practice with us, still?" Xivi's voice hitched and she shook her head. "You should challenge her to a duel."

Sena snorted. "And lose?"

"Fair point," Xivi grumbled, almost forgetting that Sena would fail miserably at a hand to hand fight with the girl. "Well, if she keeps doing it, I'll fight her."

"Thanks, but it's not that bad."

"We're all _vod_ . You didn't do anything wrong and if you did, she should challenge you for her honor, not skulk around and take her frustrations out on you. What happened to her _buir_ sucks, but it's not like you shoved that in her face. She's being a _shabuir_ because she's jealous of you."

Jealous? Sena blinked a few times. Was it really jealousy? She had just assumed that Aya was just hanging onto a grudge because she was hurting. Turning over a new leaf, Sena had not wanted to alienate her further by bringing this issue to the adults. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you're better at things than her. You're faster, smarter, and the teachers know that. Aya was never going to make a great hunter. Not before you got here and not since you've arrived. Then you show up, fast enough to keep up with Djarin, you have the teachers praising you, and y'know, it's history from there. I think she has a crush on Din, which is probably why she hasn't stopped."

"On that kriffing buckethead?" Sena chortled, watching as her friend swung her legs back down and touched the ground. What was there to like about Din Djarin? He barely talked and any brushes she had with him were curt. "I won again."

"We knew this was going to happen," Xivi grumbled, holding her head. "And why not? He's the top of the class."

Sena leapt down, sporting an elegant flip before sticking the landing like a loth-cat. Maybe there was attraction in mysteriousness, but Sena still thought he was annoying and not a good sport. They could’ve had a better rivalry if he didn’t act like he had a stick up his butt half the time.

"Show off," Xivi poked.

"But why do you say it like that? He barely talks to anyone, let alone me," Sena pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but obviously Aya doesn't have a lot of brain cells or she would've realized you and Djarin are rivals," Xivi reasoned. "And he does talk to you more than most people."

" _Lek_ , to be rude, not to profess his love for me."

" _Vod_ of few words. Except for _youuuu_ ," Xivi sang, clasping her hands together as she pretended to swoon. 

" _Ne'johaa_! You know it's not like that!" Sena hissed, cheeks burning beneath her bucket. "What about you and Kedth? You think I'm blind?" She tried to round the conversation on her friend, keenly aware that Xivi had been sitting next to the boy in class and doting on him. Sometimes he joined them for Mando'a studying and practice.

"I do like Kedth, but at least I'll admit it," Xivi snickered, hands planted on her hips as she made a silly, but mocking noise. 

"I don't even know him! He's just all broody and quiet," Sena complained, trying to convince Xivi. While she enjoyed her rivalry with Din, because it kept her on her toes, she didn't know much more about him. In fact, she knew less about him than any of her other peers which she'd seen outside of class and trained with - with the exception of Aya. 

"The two tops of the class, sitting in a tree, M-U-R-C-Y-"

Sena headbutted Xivi, taking her down to the ground where the girls scrambled in the grass, rolling around like playing pogs. A bit of giggling and squealing ensued as they fought for dominance, which was short-lived when Sena clamped onto her back and attempted to put her into a headlock. Xivi sat up and bashed her into the ground, winding her, before seizing the opportunity to throw her off. Tackling her down, Xivi restrained her, clucking in disappointment. 

"You suck at combatives. You'll definitely lose if you fight Aya," Xivi told her as if it were glaringly obvious. "You should get your _Ori'vod_ to teach you better."

"All Paz has to do is poke me and I'll break," Sena laughed. 

"More like breathe on you."

"Alright, alright," she squirmed at the insults. Now this was just turning into a roast session. If it had been anyone other than Xivi, she might have taken offense. But from the first day, the two had clicked like a cartridge in a firearm, two bolts to be fired one after another. Finally, she was released and could sit up, frowning at all the grass stuck in her armor. Xivi stood up and wrenched her up to her feet, patting her off. "I'll get you back later. You know that I can sneak up on anyone in the Tribe and they'll never see it coming."

" _Jai'galaar_ ," she brushed the shriek-hawk eyes on Sena's pauldron, painted in white. "Almost like you fly around when you're sneaking."

"One day we'll both fly. Once we get our jetpacks," Sena reminded her. Their Rising Phoenix drills weren't until next year, but everyone was still excited to start them and put all their theories and lessons into practice. 

Returning home for the night, she was surprised to find that Paz wasn't lingering around. Instead, it was just her _buir_ , set over the table with a simple dinner. Over the weeks, her tongue had become desensitized toward the spiciness, though nothing had been as hot as the first night where they'd intentionally over done the heat for a laugh. Now, she sort of liked the burn and the way it would clear her sinuses right up.

" _Su'cuy buir_ ," she greeted, pulling her helmet off and going over to the sink to wash her hands. "Where's _Ori'vod_?"

"Our for recon this week," Hux replied, waiting patiently for her to sit down with him. 

"Oh he must be thrilled," she snickered, aware that Paz wasn't a fan of having to do stealth missions or having to navigate through landscapes and shoot azimuths. "Where did they go? It's not too hard to navigate around here. Unless you're trying to find a load of banthas instead of nerfs."

"Off plant. What are your plans for the weekend?" Hux inquired conversationally.

"Probably train with Xivi." Plans were loose and formed mostly on whim. Prior weekends mingled with a few other peers, but usually it was the same. Hang out, get some work done, talk about their academics, maybe shoot a little banter, but everyone was keen on keeping up with their work and not falling behind. Even young Terri was around often.

"Set in stone?"

" _Nayc_. Why?"

Hux creased a tempered smile at her, one that set her skin on fire and stood her hair on end. "Well, if you've got a little free time for your _buir_ , I think I might have a few _kal'e_ laying around."

"I'm free. All weekend. Never been freer," Sena informed him, her attempt to not seem hasty thwarted. Xivi wouldn't be upset if she wanted to spend time with her _buir_ . She'd gotten to train with Paz often, trying to get better at her hand to hand combat, but Hux was almost always busy. Often he was gone on hunts to support the Tribe. Since being on the _Kote_ , she hadn't been given another chance to show her _buir_ how far she had come or train with him again. Now he was offering to play with knives with her. They hadn't done much knife combat in class yet, so getting ahead on this would be ideal.

" _Jate_. 0600 tomorrow morning. How are your classes going?"

The food was surprisingly savory today, mixed with root vegetables and rice. "Academics are easy still. I have learned quite a bit about land nav, which I also like. At least one Vizsla will have a brain cell devoted to reconnaissance."

Hux snorted into his ale, spewing a little. Clearing his throat, he spoke, "Nidak tells me you've been having a little trouble with one of your _vod_."

Her spoon froze and she very carefully lifted her head to look at him. Nibak had noticed? How much did she know? Nibak hadn't mentioned anything to her. "We don't get along, but it's alright. When it comes down to the wire, we're still _vod_."

"Cut the princess diplomacy out," Hux's voice was hard and stern, drawing her eyes back up. She hadn’t heard this side of him since Anaxes when he had spoken to papa. It was cold, all beskar and blaster fire, and unyielding. "If this _vod_ is insulting you, then you must face her. Ignoring her shows weakness."

" _Buir_ , I can't fight her. She's twice my size. I thought if I was the bigger person she'd stop eventually." But it had been a month. How much longer should she wait before it turned into something that ended up getting her hurt?

"You make Clan Vizsla seem weak by tolerating it. What will you do when you begin hunting and face foes much larger than yourself? You will always be small. Did that stop you when you fought the stormtrooper?"

Her face was heating, eyes glaring down at her food at her _buir_ 's scolding. "But I can't fight her with a knife. If I ask her to duel, then I'll have to do it hand to hand."

"Then do it. What is the worst that happens? You fail, but defended your honor?"

These words hung over the dinner table, pressing a heavy weight on her shoulders, going against what her papa had taught her. Fight? Of course she would if it came down to that, but wouldn't it be a dishonor to lose outright? "Ok," she whispered, washing down the lump in her throat with the mulled juice. "I'll challenge her on Monday."

" _Jate_ ," Hux sat back, lightening considerably. "When you do it, make certain that others can see. Throw your glove at her feet and demand a fight. She can do it there or at a later time. The decision is up to the opponent.

"Do not doubt yourself. Paz tells me you are a better fighter than you give yourself credit for. Confidence helps in fights. If you think you are going to lose, you'll lose before the battle has even begun."

That was easier said than done. For all the skill she had, it could be overwhelmed in an instant if she wasn't careful. Aya was much stronger than her and it'd only take one good throw for Sena to be indisposed for too long. If she fought, she'd have to rely on every ounce of her agility to tire the pink buckethead out. She must've been glaring at her food still, because Hux let out a small sigh. 

"You are doing well, _ad'ika_. You have the promise of a great hunter, but the path is not easy and there will be those who think you weak. If you let those people walk all over you, you shall suffer in the long term. Being a hunter is not only a physical skill, but one regarding respect. You cannot let Aya hold her dominance over you and ignore it."

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she'd let it go on for too long. Trying to be the bigger person, thinking herself so smug in the fact that she ignored Aya... Only to be shocked that it was quite the opposite. Aya was making the fool out of her and Sena hadn't even realized it. Maybe that's why Xivi had brought it up, trying to get Sena to pick a fight without outright telling her that she needed to. Xivi was trying to be a good friend and she appreciated her _vod's_ tactful approach, but her _buir_ had laid it out to bear. Fight Aya or disgrace the _aliit_ further. There was only one choice. 

_Complicated. Why is everything so opposite here?_ she wondered quietly, enjoying the rest of the evening with her _buir_ , settling on the couch to watch some holovids and relax. He wasn't papa, but Hux filled the shoes as best as he could. Not once had he made her feel unwelcome and since the adoption ceremony, had called and treated her as his daughter. To outsiders, the affection shared between the both of them over the course of such a brief time might seem odd, but Sena didn't think so. He wasn't like papa at all, but he was the only father she had now and Sena wasn't willing to let him go. 

She fell asleep against his shoulder, only waking up when she felt herself being set down in bed. "Alarm clock-" she mumbled.

"I'll wake you up tomorrow, _cyar'ika_. Go to sleep."

‘Wake you up’ in Mandalorian is never a gentle term. Even if your _buir_ tucks you in and gives you a keldable kiss goodnight, not waking up on your own came with risks. Sena woke up to the sound of an alarm blaring in her room, the high pitched squeal resounding from her _buir's_ vambrace. The noise was as wretched and piercing as nails on a chalkboard. She toppled out of bed, hearing his muffled chortling through his modulator as he stepped out of the room and she groaned into the carpet. 

" _Vaar'tur_!"

"Dank farrik-" she rubbed her ears, which were still ringing, cursing Hux's name beneath her breath. Cursing was developing into a rather bad habit for her, but then again _everyone_ cursed here. Over the weeks, she'd learned how to dress swiftly, how to deftly attach her armor, and lace up her boots with a single, good yank. Tucking her ears away, she plaited her hair and threw her helmet on, blaster in its holster, and trotting out, barely having time to react as he threw her a piece of fruit for breakfast. 

Eating fast also came with Mandalorian territory and this meant forsaking all her courtesy lessons. Rubbing the juice off her chin, tossed the core in the trash and ran out the door after her buir. "Where are we going?"

He had a duffle bag over his shoulder, striding out behind the house and toward the plains which were blushed with the sunrise. Slanting shades of amber and pink wrapped the hills in a warm, lovely embrace. She saw it every morning, but had always admired the beauty of nature, even if it was opposite of Anaxes. She wished she could smell it, but resolved to filling her diaphragm with air before wooshing out a wistful sigh, chased quickly with a grin.

"Meeting up with Fos," he retorted. 

"Fos-" Before she could ask the next question, she saw the unpolished armor of the mando in question, flanked closely by his _ad_ ; Din Djarin. Groaning quietly, she kept close to her buir, leveling a narrowed glare at the boy. Great. Couldn't even have a weekend together, it had to be with _them._ She didn’t know Fos very well, but it was obvious that her _buir_ respected him from the subtle posture and leveling of his helmet as the two squared off in an acknowledging greeting. 

With a thud, he set down the bag and began opening it, unfurling blankets filled with various daggers, knives, and blades. Her eyes grew round like golden suns beneath her helmet, ogling the arsenal as if it had been made in Manda for just her. A few were for practice, hewn of wood and balanced properly to simulate a regular blade. Until this point, there’d been little blade combat, only getting to use practice ones once since her arrival. “Pick the ones you want.”

Unable to resist, she tilted her helmet toward Din. “You heard him, ladies first.”

Din just leered at her silently, stiff and unmoving.

Fos chuckled, “Definitely your _ad_.”

She took it as a compliment, straightening slightly, but decided to spare Din and also wanted to pick first. Bending down, she swiped up the two largest, which weren’t quite swords, but also were too slender, curved, and angled to be dirks. One was longer than the other, the smallest half the length. “Shoto and tanto,” Hux told her, making her grin widely beneath her helmet. She already had names in mind if she was allowed to keep them. “Take a practice dagger as well.” Obeying, she took one, holding her prizes as she waited for Din to select his weapons. 

He contemplated a little longer than her, which made her chew her lip, wondering if she’d been premature and if there was a cooler weapon than the two blades she took. Eventually, he settled with a long vibro-blade which reminded her of Paz’s Bantha-Sticker. Rather than pit the two kids together, the broke off and her _buir_ began to explain the weapons that she had chosen. 

“The shoto and tanto are good weapons for _kyramud_ , which you will make one day when you are a hunter. See the curve of the blades and only one side which is sharpened? … These are made for slicing and while they can penetrate the skin in a stab, they are not used in the same manner as a double edged blade. There are variants on grips, which you know the standard, but showed interest in the reverse grip or icepick grip. For these weapons, a reverse grip would be useful as you can deflect blows with the flat of the blade rather than the edge. It is going to take a considerable amount of practice to know both grips, but it’ll suit your abilities quite well as you’ve proven before that you have talent with assassinations. Image what you could do in close combat with these?”

She leaned into every word, clinging like a life raft in an ocean, as Hux continued to teach her about the purpose, applications, pros and cons of the weapons. Since they were blades, she still had to be careful about positions she put herself in. Given her acrobatic abilities, in tight areas, she would win. A blaster was more difficult to maneuver and if she got the jump, her enemies would almost always fall from a swift addition of a second smile. Eventually, they moved on to apply the grips, the standard coming easily as she’d used knives before and the icepick requiring a bit more finesse. Fortunately, only one side was sharpened, so she wasn’t too worried about cutting herself. 

Rotating through different forms, strengthening exercises, and strikes the day listed on and they broke for lunch in the grass. For once, Djarin came and sat beside her as she picked at the grass. 

“What did your _buir_ mean you have talent with assassinations?”

Ah, so it wasn’t to have a normal conversation, he’d overheard Hux and was curious. Either way, she supposed he wasn’t being a little shit. “When my _aliit_ found me the Empire was attacking my home. My _ori’vod_ got a little lost-” she chuckled lightly, realizing now he didn’t have the more stellar sense of direction. “-and cornered. I snuck up on a stormtrooper and cut his throat, buying Paz enough time to shoot the others. Wasn’t the most graceful thing, but I’d managed to go unnoticed and launch myself at one like a feral loth-cat. Got right in between the helmet and chestplate.” She marked on her own neck where she’d plunged the blade, skin prickling with a twinge of adrenaline at the memory. 

“ _You_ managed to sneak up on a stormtrooper?” he was disbelieving, as if her story had been made up to make herself sound cooler than she was.

Beneath her bucket, she frowned and narrowed her eyes at the boy. “ _Yes_ , I did,” she sneered back haughtily. “You asked what my _buir_ was referring to. That’s it. I know how to use a knife somewhat already.”

Returning to his brooding, she rolled her eyes and set her chin on top of her knees as she gazed out amongst the moors, rolling like green ocean waves. “I’ve not killed anyone yet,” Din muttered, gloves plunging into the grass, tearing handfuls out at the admission.

_Oh._ That’s what it was about? “It’s nothing to boast about,” she shrugged, but knew she was wrong there. Mandalorians prized battle prowess and the ability to neutralize targets. Sena already had her first kill and it hadn’t been with a blaster, it had been up close and personal. “Anyways, who’s keeping count. Unless… you want to, in which case I’m already winning.” Her trademark, dopey grin unfurled beneath her bucket as the boy jolted up and snapped his visor toward her. 

“That’s not fair. You had a headstart-”

“ _Not fair_? You’ve been training way longer than I have. Should be easy for you to beat me as soon as we’re allowed to hunt,” she countered airly, puffing her chest up and being as indignant as she could to ruffle his feathers. “I’m only ahead by one.” A macabre game, but one that would happen either way. They’d kill people. Her intention wasn’t to be sociopathic and purposely go looking for folks to murder. No, it would lighten the burden of those they did kill, making it easier to cope with the fact that their hands would spill so much blood. And it amused her that she was technically already beating Din.

“You’ll be ahead by one for a _while_ ,” he pointed out, their training still slated for at least a couple more years before the covert would even consider taking them off planet.

“Fine, if you don’t want to play-”

“I’ll play,” he interrupted tartly. 

“Well, as of right now you’re losing,” she announced gleefully.

“You said-”

“Still winning,” she boasted. “Plus, knife kills are way harder. Blaster just takes a trigger pull, does the rest of the job for you. What I did requires finesse, talent, and grace.” Now she was just milking it, seeing how far she could go before Djarin got irritated and just left.

“Considering you can’t use most firearms…” he drew his rebuttal out, making her scoff at him.

“ _Hey!_ One day when I’m bigger I will be able to!”

“Bigger?” he gave her a one over, as if that were out of the question and she’d be as big as a Jawa her entire life. 

“ _Ne'johaa_ , Djarin!” she squeaked, giving him a shove that unbalanced him and made him fall over in the grass. “I just have to grow up. I won’t be this tiny all my life.”

Sitting up, he returned the shove, easily sending her flopping to the ground. Quickly, the pushing devolved into an all out brawl, the pair toppling in the grass and scuffling as the adults did nothing but watch on with amusement. “You’ll always be smaller than me!” he grunted between parrying her strikes. There were no rules right now, so anything was fair game. She wasn’t play fighting with Xivi, she wanted to pummel Djarin into the ground. 

He flung her off by driving his boot into her belt, jetting his leg up to propel her over his head. Sena adjusted quickly, able to turn in the air to land on her knees. A glove locked around her wrist, but she wasn’t willing to be dragged up so quickly again. She bunched the strength in her knees and headbutted Din’s bucket hard enough that her teeth rattled. Both sprung to their feet, Djarin threw the first open palmed strike, which she ducked beneath. She’d only get a few good chances to land a decent blow and his guard was much better than anyone else she had faced until this point. 

Coiled like a serpent, she bided her time, turning blows rather than letting the entire shock of parrying hit her small frame. Paz had taught her that, telling her that parrying would hurt her more than glancing or diverting. Since she was light on her feet, she shouldn’t ever need to parry unless she was injured or cornered. Strike, strike, turn, strike. Then she saw it, the small opening which she could dive through. Jolting for it, she realized in horror that it had been a trick to bring her closer and she didn’t have the time to evade as Din leaned into his feint. Her palm still met his chest, driving a puff of air through his vocoder, but he caught her by the same wrist and threw her right to the ground. 

The battle was lost, the impact squeezing every ounce of air from her lungs as she gasped like a fish out of water. Taking the dominant mounting position, he raised his hand in a strike, waiting for her to tap out. She squirmed a few times, but knew she had been beat. “ _Fine!_ ” she relented, glad that he wasn’t putting his full weight on her. 

What he did next absolutely surprised her, getting up from the ground and offering her a hand up. She accepted, easily wrenched up to her feet, able to hear the fluttering of her heart in her ears, breathing hard, but elated from the thrill of the battle. Her pride was a little wounded, but it wasn't as if she thought she would win. Din had years of training on her. Despite that, the fact he was top of the class made her want to best him to prove to her _buir_ that she was an asset to Clan Vizsla, not some soft little princess. He was the biggest hurdle to leap, because Paz was way too far off from her capabilities. All her brother had to do was bear hug her and she couldn't lift a finger. Djarin was bigger than her (as were most people) but at least she had the confidence to stand toe to toe with him. 

Lunch ended and they picked back up on their lessons for the remainder of the day. She learned quite a bit, but also knew that her skill would require repetition. Nothing could be earned in an instant. Silently, she was debating when she would slot the time after classes to keep her blade training, contemplating doing it after the sun had set and her work with Xivi was finished. After dinner she usually just had her tea, but Paz and Hux wouldn't bother her if she went outside in the back to practice. She could still get plenty of sleep and squeeze in a couple of hours to hone herself. Out of everything she'd done until this point - aside from running and obstacle courses - playing with the knives was her favorite. 

"Keep those and maybe one day you'll be able to forge them of beskar," Hux told her, handing her the sheathes for them. 

The shoto and tanto were made of durasteel, strong enough to rend some armor, but also requiring sharpening and care. They could be fractured or chipped more easily than beskar. Taking her new toys with her to bed, she took paint to the holsters and wrote their names on them in Mando'a runes; the shoto was Cu'Sith and the tanto Pog-Sticker. The girl was so excited, that she fell asleep with them in her arms, tucked into bed, forgetting to set her alarm again, dreaming about running through the forests of Genmaris.

Shrill screeches thrust her out of bed again, her _buir_ huffing in mild disappointment as she didn't tangle herself in her blankets and fall out of bed. Either way, his icy eyes gave her a hard look before he left the room and she groused underneath her breath. Her disdain was short lived as she dressed up and scampered out of her room, catching the fruit, and scarfing it down before trotting after Hux. She wished every weekend was like this, with the exception of Din Djarin and instead being replaced with her brother. She had found comfortable positions to strap her blades onto her, equipped on her belt, where they would remain permanently. None of the other _vod_ in her class had such amazing _kal'e_. 

By this point, Sena had decided that she wanted to live and breathe everything about knives and blades. Her inability to use a good amount of firearms while she was still so slight led to her predisposition to ask an unrelentless amount of questions. Hux had her work with some throwing knives, the vibro-blades vibrating with power between her fingers as she tried to learn how to toss them, rotating the handle to her pads, and aiming to plunk it into the center of the targets. She wasn't any good at it, which was sort of aggravating, seeing that she wanted to be good at it, but Hux reminded her that perfection took lots and lots of practice. 

When school came on Monday, she found herself still so overhyped with her amazing weekend, that the thought that she had to challenge Aya was in the back of her mind. Look at these cool new weapons! No one else had a shoto or tanto! She made certain to show her friends, but was careful not to say the name of her shoto, as it was an animal indigenous to Anaxes. Standing outside at lunch, Kedth, Xivi, Terri, and Oyiin were clustered around her, showing off their own vibro-blades, which all looked like little toothpicks in comparison to her awesome new swords.

"And what are you going to do with those, _vaar'ika_?" Aya couldn't contain herself from butting in, drawn in by the comradery of the group - one that she did not share with them. Spiteful and teasing in her tone, the others tilted her helmets up and Sena knew why. By this point, it was no secret that Aya had been picking on her, though Xivi was the only one who had brought it up until the point. The others kept their mouths shut, knowing it wasn't their place to try and tell Sena how to approach the situation.

"Stick pigs," Sena answered darkly, holding her tanto in an icepick grip. "Want to be the first?"

Everyone was astonished by her uncharacteristically menacing words. Sena was typically lighthearted and goofy, mild mannered, and helpful when she could be. She did have a bit of a temper when it came to friendly rivalries with her peers, but she'd always chosen diplomacy over threats until this point. _Buir_ had been right - cut the princess shit out. 

Aya was just as taken aback, eventually finding her words as she barked a laugh in an attempt to brush it off. "Got something to say to me, Vizsla?"

" _Lek_ , I do," she shoved her tanto back into its sheath with a loud click, sauntering forward with her shoulders thrown back. Reaching for her right glove, she pulled it off in the slowest, most methodical manner she could - one single finger at a time - before throwing it down at Aya's feet. "I challenge you to a duel for insulting the honor of Clan Vizsla. Name the time and date." Despite the calm voice, her heart was beating erratically and she could have sworn everyone could hear her heavy mouth breathing. She was going to lose, but she couldn't let that show.

Flabbergasted that Sena had finally snapped, Aya's visor just tilted down at the glove. Finally, she laughed again. "Today after class. Out by the obstacle course."

" _Koor_ ," taking her glove, she returned amongst her friends, face billeting with heat beneath her helmet as she tried not to feel absolutely sick. The beat down was coming and even her _buir_ 's words about being more confident didn't change the fact that she was half Aya's size. 

Xivi slapped her on the back reassuringly. "Kick her _shebs_ today. Maybe she'll get her head out of there."

"Just tire her out. She might be bigger than you, but she's got no stamina. You could run circles for hours," Kedth added, squeezing her pauldron. "'Bout time. Xivi and I were talking about catching Aya after class one day. Glad you challenged her."

"You were?" Sena blinked a few times, some of her nerves slipping away.

" _Lek_ ! She's been insulting you when you did nothing wrong," Kedth hissed, crossing his arms over his chestplate. "We're all _vod_. We help each other out. She's been pushing Terri around too."

Terri nodded slowly. "I think she just likes to push those that are a lot smaller than her. _Hut'uun._ "

She had not been aware of that, but felt her frown deepen beneath her helmet. Beating on Sena was one thing because they were closer in age, but Terri? Terri was 10! All the pity she'd once felt for Aya was gone. Even if there were churning emotions that estranged her from the rest of the group, that didn't give her the right to take it out on the smallest in her class. Empathy could only go so far and the rest of the _vod_ were getting fed up with the behavior. At least, this way, Sena could save Aya the embarrassment of getting her _shebs_ kicked by multiple people. 

"If you get the opening, give her a good one right here," Oyiin tilted his head up and pointed to the base of his jaw. "You know how to plant your strikes. That will take her down."

For the remainder of lunch, her friends gave her pointers, which considerably bolstered her confidence. They thought she could win! It was true that Aya was out of shape in comparison to her, so maybe she could just wear her down to the point where one good hit would render the fight. According to the rules of a duel, there was only a loss if one of them was rendered unconscious or forfeited. This meant that bones could be broken and the fight could still continue. Word spread like wildfire, though the mandos in Paz's class were still out on their recon. 

By the time class ended and Sena was pumping herself up for the fight, all of her classmates had mustered out by the course. But not only just them. Thak, Nibak, Fos, Hux, Bhone, the Armorer, the Smith, and Rhenx were also in attendance along with Lolli and a few of the children, including Zim. In a moment, all the confidence she had shattered into a million pieces as she comprehended how important this fight actually was. Half of her had been expecting that it was just going to be her 10 peers watching, not their teachers and parents.

"Hey, good luck today," Djarin stopped her before she headed down the hill, giving her a hard look. Those were the nicest words she'd heard from him.

"Gonna kriffing need it," she snorted, wringing her hands together before approaching where she was gonna get her shit kicked in. 

Her _buir_ motioned for her to come over, her chest tightening as she trotted up to Hux and gazed up with wide, horrified eyes. He crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "No matter what happens today, you defended the clan's honor," he reminded her, bumping her helmet with his. "You are not a _hut'uun_."

He had to have felt her shaking, the palpable fear rolling off of her, thankful for her bucket to hide her paling face and sagging ears. Removing her weapon belt, she handed it off to him and approached Aya who was waiting between the small crowd that was gathered. Towering over her like a mountain to a hill, Sena stepped up to the plate. 

"Can still withdraw your offer, _naar'ika_ ," Aya offered smugly.

"Scared?" Sena spat back indignantly.

"I'm not pulling my punches today," she growled.

They both turned around, walked three paces, faced each other and the fight began. The words of encouragement and tactics her friends had given her were running through her mind. She'd taken down a stormtrooper. Aya wasn't as big as that soldier. Anything was fair game. Patience was not her opponent's virtue and it was obvious the pink buckethead wanted to throttle her into the ground. Light and limber on her feet, Sena darted around her, dodging punches and open palmed strikes like a dragonfly in the wind - impossible to catch, illusive, and swift. There were noises around them, cheers, comments, and taunts. But she heard nothing.

Only the calm buzz in her ears, the hyperfocus as she predicted Aya's clumsy moves. Strength might be on her side, but she did not practice. The months leading up until this point were Sena's advantage as well as the wrath which propelled the other girl forward. Seeing only red when there was much more to observe. The minute plants of Sena's toes as she glided on the grass, once rolling out of the way, another time evading a grab as if she were made of mist. Aya was getting slower, expending too much energy in trying to catch a ghost and each movement Sena observed and calculated. They were done in sloppy rotations, harping upon the forms they would use in class. There was no independent thinking or tactful readjustment. Aya was only using what she had learned, rather than fighting with instinct.

The moment came, the desperation creeping into Aya's weary muscles as she charged at Sena. Bunching her muscles, the Anaxian was coiled like a nexu ready to pounce - and she did. Vaulting, she sprung over Aya as she tried to throw herself down to meet Sena's crouching form. Her left boot planted on the pink bucket like it was a swaying tree branch in Genmaris. The impact unbalanced her opponent, causing her to fall; Sena flipping gracefully like she had after dropping from the pull up bars with Xivi on multiple occasions. Sticking the landing like a loth-cat hopping down from its perch, she rounded and drove with breakneck haste. Aya was stumbling to her feet, a hand placed on her knee as she panted. Her helmet tilted up and Sena saw the exact location Oyiin had told her about.

Sena threw her first punch.

Her fist cracked back after connecting with the exposed jaw of Aya. Pain exploded in her knuckles, but she didn't pull back. Swaying, Aya dropped like a stone, thumping onto the ground, groaning and still choking for air. " _Ori'jagyc,_ " Sena declared, turning around, aware that she had won. She had kriffing won. How the hell was that possible? Her eyes went down to Zim as he squealed in delight, pointing and babbling loudly to Lolli. "Zim’ika, wha-" her words were strangled out of her throat as a bicep curled around her from behind. Lifted entirely off the ground, she kicked futilely as her vision began blurring immediately. 

Shouting ensued and she was dropped to the ground, her chest heaving as she drank in the air, confused as to what had just happened. Hux was bent over her, snarling in Mando'a and she saw why. Craning her head, Aya had been thrown to the ground again as she sobbed loudly, being reprimanded by Thak who had peeled her off of Sena.

"You have lost! Attacking an opponent from behind in a duel is cowardly!" he was snarling, the rage that Paz once warned her about, bubbling over. It was true. She had never seen her teacher this furious before, his words lancing into the air with vindication enough for all the spirits in Manda to hear "How dare you! You insult the honor of the Tribe and our ways!"

But rather than listen to him continue to berate her, she felt her attention drawn back up to her _buir_ . " _Kandosii! Kandosii_ !" her repeated, just loud enough for her to hear, but with fervor and insistence. The earnesty and depth of his words tethering her back to reality, grounding her. "I'm so proud, _cyar'ika._ So proud."

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes at his praise, nodding into his helmet as he squeezed her shoulders. Silently, she let them slip down, her heart still beating rapidly, blinded by the water in her eyes as he continued to mutter to her. 

"You will make a great hunter, _cyar'ika,_ " he insisted, bringing her up to her feet, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Everyone had remained, much to her chagrin, and she hoped they hadn't heard her sniffling. She hadn't been crying because she was upset or hurt by Aya's last grab, but because she was utterly overwhelmed by her emotions. Between the shock of her win to her _buir_ 's congratulations, she had brought honor to Clan Vizsla and it almost made her heart explode with pride. For the first time in her life, Sena felt as if she truly belonged. Surrounded by all her _vod_ , by her adopted father, and finally having purpose, she was soaking her face with tears beneath her bucket. Sena had never wanted to be a princess and get married and waste her life away in a gilded cage. She had wanted this. Acknowledging that it had cost all of Anaxes for this to happen - hurt. 

"We knew it! We knew you could beat her!" Xivi bowled into her, drawing her out of her _buir_ 's grasp and squeezing the life out of her. 

"That was _Kandosii!_ " Terri squealed. "The way you flipped over her! And how you were so evasive! I didn't know you were so agile!"

"She can do all sorts of tricks," Xivi gushed. "I think there's a nexu under that bucket, not a Sephi."

"Nice strike!" Oyiin had trotted over, pretending to plant the punch that had won the fight. "Told ya it'd knock her out."

"Thanks. Thanks all of you," Sena told them with her hoarse, choked up voice. "I honestly thought I was going to lose."

"What?! Why would you think that?" Terri squeaked in astonishment. 

"Because she was so much bigger than me-" And Sena had been afraid, so afraid that she'd be broken beneath Aya's strength. 

"Size isn't everything," Kedth reminded her. "You just proved that. You brought a lot of honor to Clan Vizsla today. Too bad your _ori'vod_ wasn't here to watch that."

Sena wished Paz had been there, but shrugged her shoulders and grinned beneath her helmet. "There will be many more battles in the future he can witness. Maybe next time I'll actually get to use my _kal'e_."

"Djarin's got to watch out now. Sena's gonna be _vu'traat_. Gonna give everyone a run for their credits," Oyiin jested, eliciting a braw bit of laughter. 

"She trains like _vu'traat_ ," Xivi admitted grudgingly. "How many hours a day do you train after school?"

"Until bed, but that's because I had a lot of catching up to do and I'm still smaller than everyone," Sena told them sheepishly. Her win had been a fluke in her mind. Any of her friends could easily best her because they were in much better shape than Aya was. Din had proven that just over the weekend and she wasn't bloated headed enough to think that Aya was a huge accomplishment - though she was preening in the fact that she had actually done it. 

She lingered with her friends a bit longer before returning home, where Hux taught her how to make _uj'alayi_ . Instead of normal dinner, they had the cake to celebrate, her _buir_ pointing out what she had done correctly during her fight. Still riding the high from the fight, she went out at dusk to practice her _kal'e._ Moonlight slanted over the moors, casting a long shadow in front of Sena as she went through her forms; slashing, turning her grips, maintaining proper spacing of her legs. 

Slicing moonbeams with durasteel, she bathed in the glow, the wind in the grass tickling the calves of her boots. Turning swiftly, she paused when she saw the ethereal starlight glancing down on unpainted beskar. Lowering her shoto and tanto, she stood like a solemn sentinel in the night, wondering why he was there. Rather than get any answer, only the wind sighing through the grass murmured a repy, punctuated by a nerf's moo. 

Peace shattered by the cattle, Din took a step toward her and stuck his hand out. "Want to see something?"

She cocked her head at the invitation, staring at his hand, wondering what it meant. Finally, she sheathed her weapons and took it. Pulling her away from the covert, over the soft rolling hills, and far from the protection of their people they ran. Past the crowds of cattle and toward the moon's face they went. Sena should have been more nervous about going so far away, about getting in trouble with her _buir_ for straying. But she was with a _vod_ , nothing could go wrong, could it? He was top of the class.

Cresting a large hill, she glanced down toward a pool that reflected the stars on a mirror smooth surface. Sliding down the steep sides, they approached the edge of the pond, which shimmered a pale milky white as if it were filled with star dust and moonlight. There was a single tree off to the side, shading part of the water, branches spindling out like knobby fingers flecked with verdant leaves. This was the first tree she'd seen in months. 

"I come here sometimes," Din told her, letting go of her hand. "You're from Naboo, so I thought you might like to see water again."

While the water was a welcome sight, she was more enthralled with the tree. No words escaped her lips as her breath pelted against the inside of her helmet. She began walking toward it, her feet quickening until she was running. Colliding with the trunk, she pressed her steel cheek against it and shuddered, wishing that she could feel the kiss of the wood on her face. When her chest had stopped heaving, she glanced up and located the nearest branch. Bunching her muscles, she jumped, gripped the branch and swung herself up and over. Landing neatly on top of it, she began to climb higher and higher, reaching for the moon. At the summit, she stood to her full height, grinning widely beneath her helmet. 

Sucking in a deep breath, she let out a howl into the air, like those ones that Cu'Sith would make in the woods. Djarin froze beneath the shadow of the tree, having observed her weave her way up. 

His petite _vod_ was baying like some kind of wild animal, the moonlight turning her long dark braid nearly white as it basked her. She had conquered the tree, just as she had defeated Aya. In the way she had fought and the way she had slipped up the tree with feral grace and dexterity unlike any human he'd watched. Din didn't know what a Sephi was other than the fact that they had pointed ears. He'd heard of Naboo, because Gungans lived there and people liked to joke about them. Whatever the Sephi were, they did not move like humans - Senaar did not move like a human. 

She howled again, making him flinch. This was his hideaway. His place to calm down and practice if he couldn't sleep. After watching her fight Aya, without so much as being touched, he'd decided he would show her. Now, he was glad that he had, her joy palpable even from where he stood down below. After the third cry, she began to maneuver down and made his heart jump up into his throat when she hung from a high branch, swung back, and then launched herself. The height was enough to break a man's knees upon impact. Senaar listed downward, before colliding with the ground. There was no grunt of pain, nor cracking of bone. Palm against the grass, her legs absorbed the shock of the impact and she remained for a brief moment before standing; unharmed. 

"Thank you," she told him, still breathless and his readers picking up on the pure bliss in her modulated voice. "You don't know what this meant to me. To see a tree again, after-" her tone cracked and she glanced back, staring at it.

After whatever that had happened to her had brought her here amongst the Tribe. Din knew the answer, because he'd noticed it in her. The other children in their class had been raised Mandalorian. After hearing her tell the story about killing a stormtrooper, he knew that they were more alike than he cared to admit. War had taken their homes from him and so he had wanted to share this little space away from the rest of the covert. 

"You earned it today, _vod_ ," he shrugged, trying not to seem as if he cared too much. The last thing he needed was his rival to think there was more to this than a casual favor between kindred souls.

"We should head back. It's late," Sena pointed out, visor still tilted in the direction of the tree as if she were afraid it would get up and walk away. She offered her hand to him, just as he had done upon entreating her to trust him. 

Din's heart fluttered a little before he took it.

**10BBY**

"Pack up your arsenal," Paz ordered his _vod'ika_ , shining his helmet and the new beskar cuirass that he had set on the table in front of him. They had to look damn good today. It was an important day for her and as her mentor, it would also be pertinent that he looked just as stellar. His eyes trailed fondly toward Senaar, a smile creasing the corners of his lips as she went through her blades. The kriffing brat had so many now. Mostly because their _buir_ kept giving her more, arming her to the teeth. Even if she'd been too small to use rifles and shotguns a few years ago, she'd grown into her skin and hiked up a few inches. Naturally, as an Anaxian, she was light boned and slender, but she was of a more average human height, growing like a weed overnight.

She had repainted her helmet, taking the same dark sherwood green as their _buir_ , framing her visor with shimmering gold paint. Marked upon the crown were golden teardrops, reminiscent of her people's Goddess Marks. Now, her vambraces were also of beskar, inky green and gold, adorned with a hidden blade on the inside of her forearms. Buttons for the _Kote_ , a whipcord launcher, and poison darts. A pistol on her bandolier, framed by her shoto and tanto. Leather had since been replaced with durasteel, painted like her helmet and embroidered with more tears. Her pauldrons had golden _Jai'gaalar_ eyes, which winked at Paz. 

His _vod'ika_ was growing up. The young man could've shed a tear for how far she had come and how impressive he thought she was now. All fangs and claws, with kriffing knives tucked in nearly every crany imaginable. She was _obsessed_ , giving each one a stupid name, mostly ending in '-Sticker'. Around her thigh was a band of throwing knives and a ragged, slightly fringed cloak of pine green. While similar to their _buir'_ s, she had told him her inspiration was Anaxes and the forest surrounding Genmaris - an homage to a planet and people that no longer existed. 

"Think I've got it all," she told him, her voice not half as squeaky as it had been when they’d met outside the palace gardens. 

"Check again. I'm not coming back here because you forgot some kriffing tiny _kal_ ," Paz snorted, loading his heavy blaster and standing up to begin strapping on his armor. " _Buir_ has given us the _Kote_ to do this. I've got the fobs for your hunt."

"That knife wasn't tiny last time! I literally forgot Pog-Sticker," she snarked, crooking a finger in his direction, patting the tanto fondly. 

"I don't know how you forgot that one, it's basically your left arm," Paz retorted, bickering with the 16 year old. 

"Well if someone didn't insist I take my belt off for hand to hand combat practice-" she returned with just as much bite as him, causing him to roll his eyes at her. 

It was all in good nature. Neither of them were often authentically pissy with each other. Sibling banter. To them it was endearing, even if it just seemed like a bunch of hissing. "Will you two shut up? Get out of the house. I need some peace and quiet from you!" Hux poked his head out of his room to grouse at the both of them.

"Why? Have a lady friend coming over?" Sena went right for the kill, Paz trying to hide his chortling behind his hand. 

" _GET OUT_ !" Hux thundered, closing his door before his children devolved into malice filled laughter in the _karyai_. 

They both picked up their travel packs, saddling them over their shoulders before heading for the door. Sunlight was quickly filtered by their visors, the village humming with activity as various students in Sena's class were preparing to go out for their First Trial. Each was shadowed by an older mando, be that their _buir_ or an _ori'vod_ like Paz. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to share a ship since Hux owned the _Kote_. On their way to the landing area, they passed Din and Fos. Paz chuckled as Sena flipped off her friend, which caused Djarin to just stare forlornly, wondering what in Caraya's Soul he had done to deserve that. Sena was just a brat and now had a terrible habit of flipping off all her friends, to include Paz as well.

"So when are the two of you exchanging _riduurok_?" he teased, aware that she was sensitive about any subject that encouraged romance. 

Sena sputtered underneath her helmet at the suggestion. "Zim’ika will have a heart attack if I marry anyone other than him. Y'know, I promised," she answered, deflecting entirely. The kid loved her to death, the moment he’d set eyes on her bucket, deciding that Sena would forever be the female of his dreams. Paz thought it was amusing, because while it was cute now, Sena had no idea what trouble she was in for when he was actually an adult.

"Come now!" Paz bellowed, hooking an arm around his sister's shoulders and drawing her in as they walked. "You're getting to that age now. The birds and bees-"

She groaned loudly, trying to worm out of his grasp, but he was much too strong and had mastered the ability to keep her from slipping his hold like an eel. "Stooooop. I already hear it enough from Xivi. Not you too!"

"Xivi is clever, that's why. You must've given a few of your brain cells to her over the years," Paz rumbled, pressing his vambrace to lower the dock to the _Kote_. 

"I'm a Vizsla. Everyone knows we each only have one," she retorted glibly, her stupid smile audible in her voice. 

"And to think you were so bright-eyed and bushy tailed when you got here," he feigned wist, shaking his head as he clucked. 

"You corrupted me, _ori'vod_. It's all your fault," she blamed as they started up the platform.

"Vizsla!" 

Dropping his arm from around Sena's shoulders, the both of them turning to see who'd called their names. At the base of the gangplank stood Hyvhast, one of Paz's peers, in muddy brown armor highlighted by stripes of moss green. " _Oya!_ " he bid with a wave, wishing them a triumphant hunt. Paz was aware that there were ulterior motives, his _vod_ having expressed interest in his little sister. Growling quietly under his breath, he slammed the door shut in his friend’s face. 

Humming to herself, Sena trotted off to toss her bag onto a bunk in the crew quarters. Paz used the captain's quarters since he was in charge in their _buir_ 's stead. He was a full hunter now, having passed his Second Trial. Keeping a close eye on his _vod'ika_ , he'd watched her improvement and growing into her own skin. Every Mandalorian was different, which had been hard for her to accept in the beginning. Smaller than her peers, weaker strength wise, to the point where she wasn't allowed to shoot anything more than a pistol on the range - he'd known it had been difficult to swallow at first. Still light boned like a shriek-hawk, she'd passed the most worrying bit of her training.

Understanding where her talents laid, Senaar had dug her heels in and became the unofficial blades specialist of the Tribe. Her love of _kal'e_ the subject of loving teasing amongst the Tribe. Jokes included that any child she had would be born holding daggers. Even if she was disinterested, she was coming of age and becoming the fixation of many available bachelors. Once she passed her First Trial, she would be open for hunting - or as non-Mandalorians considered it - courting. Ironically, none of them knew the exotic creature beneath the helmet, aside from the fact that she was 'Sephi'. She was precious and Paz was keen on protecting her from any unwarranted advances or overinsistent suitors. Most were his age, which made him even more disdainful over the fact that they were interested in at 16 year old like that. But aside from Djarin, she was top of her class and favored by Elder Rhenx the _Alor_. 

He might've teased her about her relationship with her rival and peer, but Paz decided he liked the quiet Djarin better than half the hunters that were asking for his blessing when they returned from the Trial. The other teen was hyper focused and talented and absolutely atrocious at expressing how he felt. Paz had long suspected that Din might like his sister, but the idiot hadn't done anything aside from ask Paz for some hand to hand combat lessons, trying to glean Vizsla life a little better. He knew that Djarin wasn't expecting the copious amount of yelling that occurred in their _karyai_ or the verbal assault he faced from the grouchy head of the clan or from Sena, whose favorite thing to do, was complain about _everything_. Apparently, she was much more mild mannered in class. 

Sena's blatant disinterest in suitors pleased him and Paz might've had something to do with that, telling her she had ages to get married and settle down. She wanted to be a hunter. Her head wasn't filled with romance, it was filled with blood lust. Again, he might've... uhm, helped with that, but he was her _ori'vod_ . To him, no one was worthy of the princess beneath the _beskar'gam_. Plus, he doubted most of the Tribe could actually handle living with her and were just attracted to her prowess. 

"Paaaaaaazzzzz," she shouted for him in the cockpit, her voice echoing throughout the ship.

Leaving the captain's quarters behind, he climbed into the cockpit to see her sitting in the pilot's seat. Her helmet was cocked on the edge of the dash, dark lashes framing vibrant eyes on copper tan skin. 

"Where's the Guild we're going to? Planet?"

Ah, right. He'd forgotten that he had stowed the inactive fobs. They would need to check in with the Guild before officially being sent off. To keep from too many members of the Tribe showing up at the same Guild, they had coordinated who would get which planet. "Dadrus."

"Solid," she muttered, starting up the ship, flipping a few switches, before her gloves settled on the controls and they squeaked from the tightening of her fingers. Taking the _Kote_ off the ground, she began moving to get them out of atmo. "Any idea what these bounties are?"

He shook his head. "They're handed out randomly as not to show favoritism toward a specific group," he informed her, plopping down in the co-pilot seat. His job was to step in if needed, but Sena had to fly the ship, navigate them to the right planet, pick up the job, do the job, hand it in, and then return back to the covert with her reward. "Depending on the bounties, they pay more if you bring them in alive. Sometimes they don't care, but we'll throw them into carbonite either way."

Bounties were quite popular right now amidst the war for the galaxy. None of that was their business, but plenty of others had bets levied and people they needed to find. They wouldn't be bothered by the Empire as long as they flashed their fobs and mentioned being on Guild business. Paz hated encountering them, his blood rushing at the thought of what they had done to Anaxes. There was no doubt that Sena felt the same way and wouldn't be opposed to gifting more stormtroopers with second smiles on their gorgets. Such a beautiful planet and culture, erased, because they wouldn't submit to the Empire's will. Were there any other survivors aside from Sena? 

Leaving the grassy moors of Vorp'ya, they broke atmo and Sena began plugging in coordinates. She listed through the hyperlanes, mapping the correct coordinates to start for the other Outer Rim planet, frowning at the calculations coming back. It would take them four days to reach Dadrus at the quickest the _Kote_ could move. She attempted to find a swiffer route, to map between lanes, but couldn't pull any quicker numbers. 

"Fuck," she grumbled. 

"It'll be four days then," he shrugged, wondering why she was so bitter about it. Dadrus wasn't right next to them and it wasn't uncommon that hyperspace might take a few days. 

"I made a bet," she continued grumpily. 

"With whom?"

Sparing a glance back from her molten gold eyes, he knew. Her rival: Djarin.

"What did you bet?" Paz was actually impressed, but that quickly faded.

"Nothing more than bragging rights," she groaned as if that were the worst thing in the galaxy. Out of all the kriffing things they could have bet, it was just that? Maybe Din thought it was worth it, because Sena had such a huge amount of pride that losing would get under her skin for months - maybe even years.

_Idiot,_ Paz complained silently. "Who knows how long of a trip he's got to make it his destination. Four days isn't that long."

"In addition to wherever we have to go to collect the bounty and then return it to Dadrus. Then we've got four days to return to Vorp'ya," she reminded him astutely. "At the very least, I expect we're going to be out 10 days."

"Then we'll just have to keep ourselves busy, won't we, _vod'ika_?"

Punching the hyperdrive with the petulance of a Foundling on the brink of a tantrum, she muttered to herself. 

"What, spending some bonding time with your _ori'vod_ that grim of a prospect?" Paz pouted.

The angsty look she threw at him made him laugh. "It might be depending on what the hell you're going to tease me about."

"I'll lay off about Djarin," he promised, but crossed his fingers behind his back. "Come back down to the _karyai_. I've got a surprise."

Highly suspicious, his little sister followed him out of the cockpit as the ship chugged onward using auto-pilot. Plopping down cross legged onto a pillowed seat at the table, she folded her arms and waited expectantly. Cracking open the cooler, he pulled out growlers of ne'tra gal. She arched a dark brow at him. "Before the mission?"

"We've got four days," Paz pointed out, placing them on the table and retrieving a set of cups. "Let's play a game."

"Of course there's a catch," she narrowed her eyes at him, drawing the offered cup over toward her. "So, what's this game?" Taking a dagger out, she used the hilt to pop the cap off of the growler in front of her, the ale hissed slightly, frothing but not touching the rim of the container.

"Truth or dare," he challenged, opening his growler. " _Ni dinu._ "

"I've already opened it!"

"Looks like you're playing," Paz shrugged nonchalantly.

" _Shebs_ ," she muttered, pouring herself a cup. "What are the rules then?"

"Truth, you ask a question. If you refuse to answer it, then you have to finish your cup. Dare, you have to do the dare. Again, if you refuse it then you have to finish your cup."

"Then why wouldn't I just do dare everytime?" Sena pointed out.

Paz laughed, but did not elaborate. "Start then."

"Dare."

"I dare you to open the dock."

Sena just leered at him, her bright eyes blinking slowly. "WHAT THE KRIFF! How am I supposed to do that?!" she roared, seizing her cup as she began to chug it. 

"You said dare," Paz chortled in his minor victory.

"You're the worst."

"I pick... truth."

"So what's going on with you and Voomri?" she piped, her voice becoming sickly sweet as she inquired about a female mando that Paz, most certainly, did not like. Not that this mattered, because Voomri would spare every moment she had doting on him, all but hanging on him in an attempt to start the hunting cycle with him. 

Paz growled, picking up his cup and draining it. "Your turn."

"Dare."

"You know where this is going, _vod'ika_."

"DARE."

"I dare you to go for a swim in hyperspace."

The game continued like this, the both of them too stubborn to answer questions or relent in their impossible dares. Smacking his sister much sooner than him, she sagged over the table, a hand on her brow as she propped up her face, eying the other half of her ale dubiously. "Truth," she groaned. 

Squirming delightedly in his seat, he placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward to grin at her. "Do you like Djarin?"

She gave him a venomous glare, picking up her drink, considering it for another moment. "Like how? Can I ask questions?"

"Enough to date."

"Why are you going to pummel him if I say yes?" she retorted snidely.

"Answer the question."

"I don't like anyone that way. I'm not interested in relationships like that currently," Sena answered honestly. "He's my friend, so yes, I like him. Not to the extent you're worried about. Although, I give you full permission to kick his _shebs_ because it would be funny."

"Dare," he decided, pleased with the answer he had gotten. 

The absolutely malicious glint in her eyes, lighting them like fire, made his stomach twist disconcertingly. "I dare you to run laps around the _Kote_ . 3 of them, in full _beskar'gam_."

This was the first dare that either of them could actually participate in and if Paz opted for a drink, he'd be labeled the loser. Curling his lip, he pushed himself up to his feet, swaying slightly, before considering his ale again. He did not want to run at this moment. No, his stomach complained at the idea. Hissing a few expletives beneath his breath he began his laps, the carbonation in the ale making him burp a few times, bile rising in the back of his throat. He finished the laps, the ship wasn't too big, but it still unsettled his insides. 

Offering him the prettiest and smuggest smile she could manage, she said, "Truth," again.

"Do you think Djarin likes you? In the aforementioned manner," Paz hissed, holding his rebelling stomach.

Her brows pushed together and she frowned deeply. "How the kriff would I know? He's the quietest person in my class."

"But if you had to guess?"

"Maybe? I really can't say for certain. I've never really thought about it."

"You haven't thought about it?" Paz's voice hitched.

" _Lek_ , I'm not hormone riddled. You humans age differently than Anaxians," she snorted, picking up her ale and taking a few mild swigs. 

"What do you mean?"

"Anaxians don't reach maturity until their second decade of life. If you... ahem, catch my drift," she blushed slightly at admitting such a thing to her brother.

Paz's gums flapped and he felt incredibly uncomfortable in that moment. "Didn't need to know that... Really didn't need to know that-" he muttered loud enough for her to hear. Now he couldn't get the images out of his mind, standing up abruptly, picking up his growler and stomping away. He locked himself in the captain's quarters, bringing the ale to his lips as he felt even more disgusted with himself. It had all been in good fun until he realized even he had been sizing up his sister, considering the expansion of their clan. Running his hand over his face, he flopped back onto the bed and groaned. 

* * *

Dadrus was an unimpressive, dustball planet. One of the first she'd been to since becoming Mandalorian and not at all her type of place, which would've been green, blanketed in trees, and with mild weather. Instead, the air was arid, made her skin parched even beneath her helmet, and the suns glared at her as if she had slapped its girl's ass in the cantina and got away with it. It was a small livable area on the gas giant and an even smaller outpost village that sat nestled between the amber and gold canyons. The Guild establishment was settled in a nook in the center of the town, the only thing worth traveling to on Dadrus. Otherwise, the planet might've been empty save for a few souls who were looking not to get captured for some sort of war crime. Place like this, the Empire would never bother with. 

The bell on the cantina door tinkled pitifully as the Mandalorians entered. One dark green, shadowed by an impassive and impossibly large dark blue figure. All activity guttered to a halt, heads turning anxiously to look at the pair that were marked with the same _Jai'galaar_ eyes on their pauldrons. Didn't get visitors often, let alone two Mandalorians. Usually they traveled alone, not in pairs. None of them knew that the two were just teenagers, because it was in the way they walked; tall, erect as if they were about to snap to attention, and with feral prowess indicating their years of training. From the visors, eyes then followed to the weapons. The female had an arsenal of knives and blades, whereas the male saddled himself with a heavy blaster and a few other smaller firearms. 

He nudged her, motioning toward the back of the room where Jace nearly spat out his spotchka. They were going toward him. Well, he was the official leader for the Guild on Dadrus, so he shouldn't have been too surprised that they'd be bounty hunters looking for pucks. Draining the rest of his cup in his anxiety, he motioned for the bartending droid to bring a double - stat. Interlacing his fingers on the table to keep them from shaking, he listened to the dull metallic ring of each boot's footfall before the Mandalorians were standing at the end of his table.

The female reached into a pouch, all but slamming the unactivated fobs in front of him. "We're here for work," he wasn't expecting the accent. It was crisp, clear, and definitely not from round these parts. Outer Rim folks all had a certain accent, hers was cultured and smooth like velvet, despite the shift in it from the modulator. Jace leaned forward, earning an aggressive leer from the bigger mando. Was nice to hear such a pretty accent, but he wasn't looking to get throttled by the blue guy.

Swiping the fobs, Jace flipped through them and nodded his thanks at the droid who brought over his second spotchka. "These are all claimed," he muttered. "Where did you get these?"

The female glanced over at the male, her head tilted, maybe confused?

"Do you have any other work?" the male's voice was deep like rolling thunder.

"I have a few," Jace sat back and considered them. A pair like this could really be used for anything, not just a small fry job. "Tell you what, mandos, I'm in a gracious mood today. I've got one puck if you're willing to take it, but it's on Tatooine and deals with the Hutts."

"What does it pay?" the female inquired, his heart clenching at the sound of her voice again.

"Well. As long as you bring the bounty in warm. Leaking? That'll be fine. But alive," Jace picked up his spotchka and took a deep swig, eying the green mando while he did so. He saw an obsidian braid swaying and wondered what might be underneath that helmet. 

"We'll take it," she didn't deliberate with her partner, holding out a black glove expectantly. 

Jace found the puck in his stash and activated it, taking the three fobs they'd had that were no longer any good. Those were pitiful bounties anyways for a set of Mandalorians. They'd be better suited for walking amongst the Hutts and not being bothered. Jabba would probably entertain them, since he liked Mandalorians. Plopping it in her hand, Jace smiled fondly, "Happy hunting."

* * *

"Why are all these kriffing planets hot as fuck?" Sena complained loudly to her brother as they stepped off the dock into the hangar of Mos Espa. Visor adjusting rapidly to the light to cut the difference from the darkness of the _Kote_ , she glared at anything and everything around her. She liked warm planets, not scalding ones. Despite there being a habitable zone in Tatooine, it was hotter than the devil's armpit and wearing full armor was not comfortable. Dadrus had also been slightly unpleasant, but now she was beginning to think that it was absolute paradise when held next to Tatooine. Plus, the Guild Master had been kind of cute. Ugh, she'd literally just told her brother she wasn't interested in anyone that way and now some random human had garnered her interest?

"The Outer Rim isn't known for being the most favorable place to live," Paz reminded her, but also groused quietly at how hot it was. Tatooine left much to be desired aside from the climate, to include the absolute rabble that littered the planet. They were Mandalorian and wouldn't be bothered, but he disliked the atmosphere here, the casual slavery, and the disdain toward life as if it were something to be taken for granted. This wasn't exactly the place he'd wanted Sena to go for her first hunt, but she'd snatched the puck up before he could stop her and he wasn't going to argue with her in the cantina on Dadrus. Not in front of other people. Any gripes could be taken behind closed doors unless they were life threatening.

"Should be easy. Pick up the quarry, shove him into cryo, then double back," she reasoned, spotting the mechanic who governed the bay they had landed in. "Hey!"

The old man froze beneath the shadow of the Mandalorians, dropping the wrench in his hand and paling. Bending down, Sena picked it up and offered it back to him, the small bit of courtesy confusing him. "W-welcome to Mos Espa," he greeted, taking the wrench and rubbing the accumulated sand off on his coveralls. "What can I help you with today?"

"We're just docking for the day. How much will that cost us?" Sena asked, gesturing back to the Kote. 

"If you leave before morning, won't cost you more than 200 credits. "

That seemed like a lot, but then again Sena hadn't really bought anything off planet before. Their allowance was 1,000 for fuel, food, docking and other miscellaneous necessities. If this bounty went without a hitch, then they would be getting a lot more for the scum bag in Hutt palace. Hearing the word palace again was odd, but this place was nothing like her old home. 

"Here's half now," she fished the credits out and put them into the mechanic's hand before locking up the Kote with a few buttons on her vambrace. Thinking that it was hot from within the shelter of the hangar, she was immediately dismayed the moment she walked into the sandy streets and felt the sunlight billeting off her dark armor. Sweat pooled beneath her flight suit, against the back of her neck, and rolled down into unpleasant crannies. Holding the fob in her hand, she followed the quiet pinging while her head remained on a swivel.

Everything was earth toned. Despite being a miserable planet, there was actually quite a bit of activity. Folks of multiple races meandered the streets in robed attire, a wave of gritty activity as they plucked along on daily activity. Her eyes noticed the people with collars, eyes cast down, going about their business though they were considerably more demure than most other locals. Slaves. Her lips curled beneath her helmet in disdain, recalling what papa had once told her about those who used slaves rather than paying people for honest work. They were despicable. No one, not even pilfering Jawas, deserved to be treated like a disposable object. 

Paz had mentioned that Tatooine was a shitty planet and with each step, she continued to wade into the trash and find things she didn't like about it. From the old durasteel domes that were stained from whipping sandstorms, marred by scars of the sunlight stripping it of its dignity. Everything here was for purpose, not appearance. With water a high commodity, people would typically resort to sonic showers to clean things, which was sort of gross in her opinion. At least, Vorp'ya had its rainy seasons and was never truly parched like Tatooine. Grass had to grow in for the nerfs to graze on, their population growing ever larger. 

They cut their way through the crowd like butter, folks shuffling out of their way as if so much as touching the Mandalorians would burn them. Sena wasn't taken aback by this, people were terrified of Mandalorians and eyed the arsenal of weapons each of them were decorated with. Did it make her feel lonely? No, she had the whole Tribe back on Vorp'ya, her friends, her vod, her best friends. There was nothing to be desired and she had a job to do to prove her worth to the Tribe. She wouldn't let her _aliit_ or the Elders down.

The Hutt palace wasn't exactly what she'd call a castle. A big, cylindrical dome with a few black rings toward the top which were windows set inward, strong enough to withstand the storms. While it was quite large, she thought it had a phallic shape to it and was unimpressive and nondescript. No, compared to Genmaris Castle it was a lewd joke, more akin to a run down outpost in the forest than a place where important people should dwell. Through her academics, Sena knew that the Hutt Clan was not a force to be reckoned with lightly. They were slavers and crime lords, with no qualms in dispatching anyone they disliked. Fortunately, they were fond of Mandalorians and their success in retrieving bounties, so Sena was hopeful that they wouldn't run into too many issues.

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

Inside the palace. Well, she'd been expecting it, eying the pair of Niktos by the door who gave the two of them brief glares before jerking their heads in approval and letting them through. Smoke buffeted their helmets upon entrance, the haze a swirling combination of whatever the patrons were dragging between lips and a machine near the jazz playing band. Lively music filled the air, but did not disperse the blatant profligacy that filled the cantina chamber to the brim. Slaves were everywhere, identifiable from the metal shock collars around their throats. Servers ferried drinks between tables, some playing sabacc, others engaged in deep conversations, and eyes immediately distinguishing the mandos through the murk, almost as if they weren't truly there, and their eyes were playing tricks on them.

Upon a stone plinth was the ugliest creature that Sena ever had the luxury of laying eyes on. Once that title had belonged to Rathas, but now she'd decided that Jabba the Hutt was a much more suitable champion. A big, lumpy mass of molted green, brown, and tan with piercing orange eyes, slitted pupils blown as he picked up a tiny, live, and miserable creature which squealed for dear life before disappearing into the sticky maw of the Hutt. A shiver lanced down her back, a pair of scantily clad slaves tethered to him by chains. They looked absolutely petrified, as if they might be the next thing to disappear into his gullet.

There were dancing platforms where various female slaves swayed to the music and gripping poles. Clearly, they weren't doing it for pleasure, their collars a little smaller as not to impede them from their work. Lecherous eyes trailed them, some of the customers and guests muttering about what they wanted to do to them and if maybe Jabba would let them if they paid. The absolute filth being translated through her helmet made her want to vomit. 

Paz brushed her arm, reminding her to keep moving, and not get distracted. Steadying herself, she placed her palm on Cu'Sith's pommel and felt her heartbeat ease back down to normal. While she wanted to murder everyone in this room, aside from the slaves, and paint a beautifully macabre mosiac with crimson (and whatever other colors of blood there might be) - she knew they couldn't. Not only were they vastly outnumbered, but killing anyone in here without permission would mean turning the Hutt Clan against them and the Tribe. Too much of a risk to free a few slaves. They weren't there to be heroes.

Approaching Jabba, he turned his repugnant eyes toward them, his impressively wide mouth curving up in what could only be described as a slimy smile. A protocol droid stood beside him as he spoke, translating the Huttense, "Welcome Mandalorians. Jabba is most pleased to see you amongst his ranks today. He asks what he can help you with today? Are you looking for work?"

Sena drew out her tracking fob. "We have a quarry that has led us here," she informed him curtly, keeping voice under control and thankful for the modulator to cut the edge off of her bitterness in having to deal with this monster. Pressing the identification button, the silhouette of their charge sputtered in a crystalline holographic view; a Twi'lek male in his early 30s.

Jabba considered it and then wobbled the top of his slug-ness. He didn't really have a neck which could discern what was his head and what was his body, but she supposed it was as much of a nod as she would get. "Jabba says that your quarry is here in one of the back rooms. You are permitted to collect him as long as no one is disturbed."

Sena put the fob back into her pouch and gave a discreet nod, unwilling to thank the creature. Turning away, she trotted along through the back halls and toward the rows of chamber doors. This area was akin to a hotel, where bounty hunters could stay whilst in Jabba's care. Lighting was subpar, yellow like piss, and casting a sickly glow against the rusted walls. Down the hall, she stopped where the fob indicated, glancing to see if there was anyone nearby. A few scampering slaves, who ducked away and ignored them, a passing Nikto, but no one who had any interest in bothering them.

From her pocket, she removed a lock pick, giving Paz the signal to let her handle this on her own. Sena could use her stealth to her advantage, but Paz wasn't gifted in the same talents. He'd trundle right in and give her away. He would post outside whilst she took care of business inside. Didn't take long for her to find the right combination. She'd practiced on Paz's door just to annoy him by putting random bugs in his bed. He hated bugs.

Slipping in like a shadow, she pinned herself to a wall and slowly removed her _kal'e_ from her belt. The lights were off except for one on the nightstand, allowing for her to drink in the surroundings before deciding what she would do. Her head cocked, a strange slapping and wet noise garnering her attention. Creeping forward, her feet rolled heel to toe to prevent any noise. Her light weight allowed for an even more soundless approach as she cut the corner slightly and her stomach dropped into her feet. 

Caged in the corner was a young woman who was barely clinging to life as her captor gripped her by her slave collar. Head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, Sena could only watch on in horror as he pummeled into her, each wet slap punctuated by a terrible whimper from the woman’s mouth. The animalistic grunts, the absolute disregard for the slave’s deteriorating health, her skin marked by bruises and lesions, slicked with sweat and blood.

Finally finding her feet, she stepped forward, each rolling of her heel to toes silent. Not that the bastard would have even heard her, fixated in his conquering. She raised the pommel and collided with the back of his head. 

The Guild Master had said leaking was fine. Her lip was peeled back in a wolfish snarl that the quarry couldn't see, groaning as blood trickled down the back of his head. A hiss escaped the door for a second time and Paz stomped in to see what the commotion was. Immediately, he went rigid, observing the barely breathing form of the slave as Sena bent over her, chewing her lip as she tried to decide what to do. Maker, she was bleeding _everywhere._

"She's not going to make it," he told her. 

"Why? Why would anyone do this? What sort of sick pleasure do they get from this?" her voice was hoarse, but crackled with unbridled fury. "Can you hear me? Hello?"

The slave girl's eyes fluttered open for just the briefest of moments, unfocused, pupils blown as she let out the faintest cry of shock. Of course. Two Mandalorians were hunched over her while she was bleeding to death. Gritting her teeth, Sena placed her arms under the slave and lifted her, taking her over to the bed instead of the damp corner she'd been bludgeoned in. Setting her down, dismayed by how much the human weighed, she pulled the blankets up and tenderly wiped away the spittle and other fluids from her face. Continuing to clean up what she could, she sat in the chair beside the female and waited, observing each rattled breath until the slave opened her eyes again.

"What... are you doing?" she asked weakly.

"I'll stay here with you," Sena promised, clutching her knees to keep her hands from shaking as the scenes replayed in her head over and over again. Primal, animalistic, and disgusting. 

"P-p-please. Can you finish it? It hurts... so bad... it hurts..."

" _Vod_ , I'll do it-" Paz stepped up.

The slave whimpered at the sight of him and Sena snapped her head up. "Take him out of here. I'll help her. She's afraid of you."

Paz's shoulders sagged slightly, gripping the quarry by the cuffs and dragging his limp body out of the room. When the door snapped shut again, Sena turned back to the young woman and let out a shuddering breath. "Is there... anyone you want me to tell about you? Family? A friend?"

"I've always been a slave. N-n-no one," she answered quietly, closing her eyes against and shuddering. "Be-before you do... Can I see your face? S-so I know?" Know who saved her and put her out of her misery. That was her request.

The question shocked her, shaken to her core by the question to see her face. Aside from her _aliit_ , no one had seen her since she left Genmaris. No living thing could see it or she'd have to kill them. Drawing her blade, she knew what she had to do. Sena was discreet, hiding it on the outside of her thigh as she reached up with a trembling hand and disengaged the seal of her helmet. Setting it down, her eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim room, glowing faintly in the reflection of the lamp. 

Eyes widening, the slave sputtered slightly at what she saw, the tanned countenance of a young female. Then she softened, resigned to her death, a faint smile creasing her frothing lips. A secret she would take with her to the grave and the only luxury and honor she'd been spared in her entire life. "Th-thank yo-you," the slave muttered as Sena bent down, almost in the way a mother would crane to her child to kiss their brow before bed time.

Smoothing the mess of hair from the female's face, Sena's eyes burned as she maneuvered the blade carefully, out of sight and mind. "Go to a better place. You will be safe there and no one will harm you, _mesh'la_ ," she promised, sliding the blade up into the girl's ribcage. Her lids snapped back, before a long winded sigh parted her mouth and she eased down into an eternal slumber. Dragging the pads of her fingers down, Sena closed the slave's eyes and withdrew her tanto, wiping the blood off on her pants. Taking her helmet, she placed it back on and cleared her throat, finding it constricting on her as she stared at the girl - who might've been sleeping peacefully if not for the dark scarlet stain in the fabric where her heart had been pierced.

_I will remember you,_ Sena promised, spinning on her heel and storming out of the room to find Paz waiting. The quarry was coming to, eyes still rolling into the back of his head. She'd probably given him a concussion.

" _Vod_?" Paz was even toned, entreating her to see how she was faring.

"Let's return to the ship."

The silence between them was thick enough to cut and Paz was worried. While talking outside the privacy of the Kote or their covert was not necessary, he saw the stiffness in her shoulders and the fists she balled her gloves into. He'd only caught what had happened at the end, but had been able to see quite clearly that she had found the quarry torturing the slave. Kriffing Tatooine. Absolute hellhole of a place. This was why he had been worried about coming here. It was no place for a 16 year old and now she'd seen too much. 

Sena paid the mechanic in the hangar, following Paz closely as he dragged the charge who was starting to become more lucid. He was about to thrust the bastard into cryo when his sister caught his arm. "No. I'm not done with him," she informed him, preventing him from sealing the Twi'lek in carbonite. Any normal person might've been sickened by the suggestion, the idea that she was going to torture him as he'd tortured the slave. But Mandalorians often abided by the rules of an eye for an eye. The quarry needed to be alive, but they'd never said he couldn't be scarred.

He left her, heading up to the cockpit just as she secured the trembling Twi'lek to a chair and pulled out one of her knives. Just as he closed the door to the cockpit, he heard the first guttural scream, silenced quickly by some article being stuffed into his mouth. The creature deserved it. He deserved every lasting mark that Sena would place on him. Being a master of blades had always encroached on this territory - Paz just wondered how long it would be before she actually wielded them in this manner. He'd been hoping she would be older, but he couldn't change fate. No, he just worried about what his _vod'ika_ had seen.

* * *

**Translations**

Shabuir - motherfucker  
Buir - parent  
Vod - comrade/brother/sister  
Lek - Yeah  
Ne'johaa! - shut up!  
Shebs - ass  
Murcyur - kiss  
Ori'vod - big sibling  
Su'cuy - Hi  
Kal - blade  
Kal'e - blades (i made the plural up)  
Nayc - No  
Jate - Good  
Ad'ika - daughter/son (affectionate)  
Aliit - Clan  
Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart  
Vaar'tur! - Morning!  
Ad - son/daughter  
Kyramud - assassin  
Vaar'ika - pipsqueak  
Koor - Deal  
Hut'uun - coward (a very heavy weighted insult in Mandalorian)  
Ori'jagyc - bully; one who picks on someone smaller than themselves  
Kandosii! - Well done  
Vu'traat - special forces  
Riduurok - marriage vows  
Oya - Stay alive ! Cheers !  
Ni dinu - Take it or leave it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, absolutely all my resolve has vanished and I am now hopelessly writing a romance fic. Heck. 
> 
> My original intention was to really drag out growing up, but I like the vein I've traveled down more. The biggest point to take away from this is that Din is very inexperienced (and he's reserved) whereas Sena is very outgoing and popular (with the addition that she's not in an Anaxian's adolescent form yet, so relationships of a sexual nature are still weird to her). We've got that awkward in between phase in tandem with Sena's distaste for what happened on Tatooine. Our poor little bird isn't gonna be ready for an intimate relationship for a while and Din is hopeless anyways since he doesn't talk.
> 
> Anyways, I'm really excited to publish the next chapter in a week. There will be a lot of timeskips before getting to present time of Season 1. 
> 
> Additionally, Paz will eventually also have a love interest in a few chapters. I couldn't forget him completely when Din and Sena's ship sails. Tags will change once those chapters are published.
> 
> Publishing day will be Sunday - no specific timeframe.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @spc4eva (I still have no idea what I'm doing)


	4. War Doesn't Take Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years make the heart grow fonder. But the Empire looms on the horizon and they’ll not leave any planet untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m weak willed y’all. Enjoy the years flying by.
> 
> Also not certain if this applies, but just so people are comfortable:
> 
> Trigger warning: mentions of questionable consent for touching and coercion past comfort
> 
> Note: latter part of the chapter contains full on smut - praise kink, the helmets stay on, dirty talking, unprotected, vaginal, and fingering

Din was the first to return. He'd not really been expecting it to go any other way, but he had sort of hoped that Sena might be waiting, gracing him with a middle finger and arrogant helmet tilt. Instead, he knelt before the Elders in the Foundry as he handed over the supplies purchased with the credits from his hunt. Shustii, the only other mando who did not wear a helmet amongst the council, creased a smile amongst her wrinkles. 

"You have impressed the Tribe, Djarin," her trembling elderly voice announced, speaking for the group. His own eyes went to Rhenx, whom he had always admired, but it was always Shustii who gave him attention. "You are the first to return from your Trial and with a bountiful harvest. For your success, you shall move forward in your training."

Din bowed his head respectfully, pausing in the position, before coming back up mechanically. Waiting for his dismissal, it was given when Shustii nodded, allowing for him to get back to his feet. The Armorer stepped forward and acquired his offering before he turned around, departing from the Foundry. While he was proud to be the first one back, he also didn't think the job had been that difficult. His bounty had all but sobbed at his feet, begging not to be taken in. Up to his eyeballs in debt, the man knew he was going to be killed or forced into servitude. None of that was Din's problem. It was a job and the man had done this to himself. 

He wondered what the rest of his vod were up to, trying to silently place his bets on the order in which they'd return. He banked on Sena being a close contender, followed by Kedth and Xivi (who had decided to wait until she was 17 to go on her hunt). He was absolutely astonished to see Aya return next, but quickly realized that it wasn't because she had been successful. Over the years, since her loss to Sena, she'd cut herself off more from the rest of the group. He didn't pity her, as he took his own solace on not always being a part of the main crowd, but they were opposites. He took his part in the Tribe very seriously and Aya did not try. Most of her peers disliked her, Din included, because of what she'd done after the end of her duel. The mando had never apologized for it and Sena was quite popular within their class and outside of it with hunters around her brother's age. If she had just apologized, her luck might've been much better. 

From the sag of her shoulders and the uneasy amount of time she was locked in the Foundry, Din knew she had failed. Noticing her departure at dusk, he could hear her cries coming out from her vocoder as she dejectedly wandered off. People who failed were allowed to try again when they were older and would eventually be assigned duties around the covert. Since they were not talented enough to manage easy bounties, they would be put to better use in doing things like cooking, raising the Foundlings, and supply requisitions. These were not bad jobs, as they were necessary for the Tribe to function, but it had to be a hard pill to swallow - watching your peers move on and being barred behind because of incompetence. 

Kedth arrived the following day, brimming with pride, and leaving the Foundry after a short hour of talking with the Elders. 

"Who else has come back?" Kedth asked, finding him in the Den.

"Aya failed, but she is the only other one," he answered, feet kicked up on the edge of the hearth table where flames sputtered up from the center.

"Dank farrik, I beat the Vizslas?" Kedth let out a little hoot of victory. "Knew I wasn't gonna beat you, but I expected Sena to be neck and neck with you."

"Depends on where her bounty was," Din shrugged. By this point he assumed it was a lengthy distance, because she wouldn't have taken their bet if she knew she was going to lose. He thumbed something in his pocket, contemplating whether or not after the First Trial was the best time to give it. He'd already noticed Hyvhast eying Sena and after they left normal classes, any of the female mandos would become fair game. It hadn't been his intention to eye up his rival, but he also didn't like the idea of anyone other than himself hunting her.

"Did you hear me Djarin?" Kedth intoned. 

"What?" he tilted his visor back, dropping his hand from his pocket. 

"I asked who you think is gonna get here next."

He shrugged, unable to levy bets when they had no idea where their vod were in the Outer Rim. They didn't have to wait around too long. Oyiin followed, which began making him anxious. Xivi was next, followed by Vowr, and finally Sena. Everyone had passed and he knew that Vizsla had too by the hefty supplies she dragged with her to the Foundry. Din waited for her to be released, darkness falling over the village before she stepped out of the Foundry, the moonlight catching the golden paint on her armor, lighting it up like a beacon against her dark armor. 

"Looks like you lost," he announced smugly.

Sena's helmet turned up toward him, a strange, uncharacteristic line in her shoulders as she just stared. "Whatever," she grumbled and walked away. 

He assumed she was just bitter, trotting after her. "Where did your bounty take you?" he inquired casually.

She did not answer, quickening her pace as she carved the path back to the Vizsla house. 

This disquieted him. Sena was a blabber mouth, more than eager to talk about her success and paint vivid stories with her words. " _Vod_?"

"I don't want to talk about it," her crisp voice was cold and distant.

"Did you fail?" That was the wrong question. Of course she hadn't failed. Din had watched her carrying in her supplies, but he couldn't logically find another reason why she wouldn't just say what happened.

"No."

"Then what-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" she snarled. The Vizsla temper was infamous around the Tribe, but it wasn't often that it was bared. Most knew to be wary of it as Hux had once displayed how terrible their family's temper could be. There were a few times where Paz had threatened to teeter over that delicate edge, but his antagonizers quickly backed off as Big Blue had become the largest person in the Tribe. 

He didn't find out why she was so upset until he was sparring with Paz later in the week. Sena had been incredibly quiet compared to usual. While she was amongst her friends, she didn't contribute to the conversation or answer questions as frequently as typical. He parried a thrust, bones ringing beneath his vambrace at the strength in Paz's well placed strike. If he had to guess, this Vizsla also seemed rather irritated. 

"Hey," Din muttered once they'd come to a close, his heart pounding his chest, Paz shoving the straw of his water bottle underneath his helmet before greedily drinking. "Are you two alright? Since coming back from the First Trial-" he trailed off, Paz glaring at him and straightening at the suggestion. 

"What's it matter to you?" the blue mando asked sharply. 

"We're _vod_ ," Din offered poorly. 

For a fleeting second, Din thought that Paz was going to pummel him into the ground. Instead, a breath hissed through his vocoder, crackling slightly at the end. "Mission was tough on us," was all he was willing to admit. 

The answer was cryptic and Din still didn't comprehend. "Tough quarry?"

"I wish," Paz grumbled. "Just don't bother her about it. She just needs some time to cool down. Ready for another round?"

**8BBY**

Cooling down took much longer than Din had expected. His thoughts wandered about what had happened that was enough to shake Sena and Paz. Whatever it was, he couldn't even begin to fathom it, but it must've been bad. Training continued as usual and he clung to the small gift he had intended on giving her way longer, until it became just a familiar weight in his pocket, and he shrank back as older hunters began talking to her. Paz was almost always nearby, hovering like a menacing shadow, refusing to allow anyone who wasn't a classmate of hers linger for more than a couple of minutes.

As annoying as that might've been for Sena, Din was thankful for it. Or, he had been until Hyvhast finally broke through her denials and disinterest, officially staking his claim on Sena after their Second Trial. To say that Din was bitter was an absolute understatement, sparing his friend long stares as he noticed keldabe kisses being exchanged between her and Hyvhast. Beyond that, he didn't know what else was going on relationship-wise and felt too peeved (and awkward) to even think about asking her how things were going. 

It wasn't permanent was it? Maybe eventually Sena would see that Din was a better hunter and leave behind Hyvhast. He snorted at his dumb thoughts, aware that Hyvhast's unrelenting persistence was the only reason Sena had agreed to court with him. Din Djarin had done nothing to express his feelings toward her. In fact, he'd held onto the gift he'd intended on giving her for two years. Not once had he felt it was the right time to give it to her and come the end of the Second Trial, she was suddenly taken. 

He'd grown closer to Paz, not because it suited him, but because he liked the Vizsla. Always willing to help when he had time, Paz made for a great companion and an even better teacher. Din would have been an idiot not to take advantage of the other male's knowledge. They'd gone a few hunts together and out of most people, he found he preferred working with Paz to those he grew up with. 

"Where's the Guild that we're headed to?" Paz yawned, cleaning his heavy blaster before the mission, setting the pieces spread on the table in the Vizsla _karyai_. 

"Felucia," Din answered shortly. Wasn't the best planet, in fact it was incredibly humid and sticky, swampy to the point where just walking around town felt as if it soaked you straight through, but the Guild outpost there was remote and nondescript. "Where do you usually go?"

"Dadrus," Paz was cleaning the bolt still with a rag, wiping away the residue before picking up his ale and drinking it through a straw. "Not too bad out there. The Guild Master is fond of Sena, so he tends to give us good pucks."

"Where is she? I haven't seen her around recently," Din commented, trying to sound disinterested and nonchalant. 

"She went out tonight," Paz grumbled, his mood shifting immediately. 

Oh. Din turned his helmet back down to his ambien rifle and tried to pretend as if that didn't bother him. For a split second, he thought the conversation had been dropped like a hot potato, but Paz picked back up with a sharp intake of breath like he was a bull nerf about to charge.

"Don't understand what she sees in Hyvhast," Paz vented, shoulders pinned tensely as he hunched closer to his weapons. "He's a good hunter, but he's _ori'buyce, kih'kovid_."

Din snorted, aware of what he was referencing. Hyvhast had no modesty. Well, that wasn't quite a trait taught amongst Mandalorians, you still acknowledged your Elders and those that were better than you. He didn't spend enough time around Hyvhast to know him too well, but he'd heard the other hunter boasting in the Den before, loudly enough that the rest of the patrons could hear him. He wasn't being brash accidentally, he wanted everyone to hear. 

"Never understood why you never made a play at her," Paz remarked between his snippets of insulting Hyvhast. 

Din froze, almost dropping the priming pin in his hands at the Vizsla's proclamation. Swallowing hard, he looked over to see the visor fixated on him, undoubtedly Paz locking eyes. Was he saying that he would've allowed it? That he wouldn't be complaining about Din half as much as he did about Hyvhast? Somehow he doubted that. Whoever dated Sena was going to have to deal with the over protective big brother. 

The door opened, saving his _shebs_ from having to offer a rebuttal to Paz. Snapping his visor away, finally releasing Din from the power of holding his gaze, he sat up and dropped his charging handle on the table and stood up abruptly. Cocking his head, he turned around to see what was going on, noticing that Sena had returned home for the evening. His heart ached at the sight of her, not noticing the tremble in her shoulders or the quick way she ran to her bedroom. 

Paz was at the door just as it closed in his face, causing Din to glance back in confusion. "Sen'ika? Sen'ika open the door or I'm coming in-" his voice dropped, tender and unlike the man that Din knew. Something was wrong and Din hadn't even noticed, but the moment that Paz had laid eyes on his sister it'd taken all but two seconds for him to know. That made his stomach shift uncomfortably, wondering how many times he'd never noticed that she was upset. Maybe he really didn't deserve to court her.

Paz punched the code into the door, an item falling out of his bandolier and catching the door before it closed completely. It jarred it, leaving it open just a breadth, Din staring at it as he heard the conversation he wasn't intended to. 

"Sen'ika?" 

There was quiet sniffling, followed by the bed squeaking, bucking beneath Paz's weight as he sat on it. "Am I ugly?" she asked her brother quietly, voice unmodulated; her helmet was off. She always had a different accent from everyone else, so articulate and prim (aside from when she cursed) and it made his knees weak even now.

The silence threatened to strangle Din where he sat, wondering if anyone outside her _aliit_ had seen her face. Finally, Paz spoke, "Why would you think that?"

She broke out into more tears. Such an awful noise, each little whimper sending unpleasant stabs down Din's back, his throat parched, and his fingers tightening around the arms of the chair he lounged in.

"Did Hyvhast do something? Did he see-"

"N-no, not beneath my helmet," she hiccuped.

"Then why would you think that? Why would you think you're ugly, princess?" he soothed, his own voice suddenly warmer and unmodulated.

"W-we were fooling around and... you know how I feel about that after what happened on Tatooine-" she choked out, hoarse and tinny. "-but I thought he was nice, s-so I let him. He's been wanting to for weeks now, b-but I wasn't ready. Wh-when he saw beneath my-" she wailed again, Din flinching.

"He saw what?" the edge of fury hissed in Paz's voice, the low growl that would build up into more. 

"H-he said I looked like a b-boy. Th-that I have no chest. And then m-my marks-"

"Shh, Sen'ika. He's _di’kutla_ . He'll never know the _mesh'la dala_ beneath the helmet," Paz soothed. "He was never worthy."

"I told you that Anaxians age slower," she whined. "I-I'm still growing. I just thought maybe he would wait a couple more years but-"

"That was never his interest. I warned you about what happens when hunting begins," Paz muttered darkly. "It's not always with the intention of entering _riduurok_."

She broke back down into a fit of crying, Din glued to his chair and unable to move for fear of alerting the both of them that he was eavesdropping. From what he garnered, Hyvhast had pressured her into doing things before she was ready and that vexed him. What had happened on Tatooine? What the kriff was an Anaxian? He thought she was Sephi. His memories flipped back to their first time by the moon pool as children, the way she'd climbed the tree and howled at the stars. There had always been something strange about her that he could never quite place his finger on. Part of that mysteriousness had drawn him in. 

Now there were other reasons. His fingers thumbed the item in his pocket, clenching tightly around it that the beskar pressed through his gloves and into his skin. She was a loyal member of the Tribe, shouldered her duty, made an amazing hunter, and pulled her weight amongst the Tribe without ever offering a complaint. Aside from her abilities as a Mandalorian, Din thought she was one of the most amusing people he knew. With a mouth like a sailor and goofy to a fault, when she wasn't being serious about her work, she was fun to be around... easy to be around. And tolerable. More than tolerable by this point. Din liked spending time with her, even if that just meant practicing in the yard. They'd done that a lot less recently.

Then there was the fact that the both of them had come from similar backgrounds, ripped away from their homes amongst war and battle. Neither had spoken much about it, other than acknowledging that there would always be those memories before they were Mandalorian. 

Hearing his friend cry broke something in him, each little sniffle like the a _kal_ in his chest, prodding him again at her despair. Wasn't often you heard Mandalorians cry, let alone someone as chipper as Sena. She was so kriffing stubborn and prideful that she'd suffered being bullied as a kid because she was unwilling to balk or bend. The only person who seemed to see the emotional side of her was her brother. And in a way, Din was betraying her trust by continuing to listen. 

Eventually, Paz got up and headed for the door. He paused, freezing when he saw what had caught in the door, picking it up before heading out and shutting the bedroom with a hydraulic hiss. Din jolted, visor locking with the blue Mandalorian's, wondering what was about to happen.

"Did you-" Paz started.

Din nodded.

" _Hukaat'kama_ ," he ordered, striding out of the house.

Reassembling his rifle, he slung it over his back and sauntered after Paz. There was no question as to where he was going. Night basked them as they stalked their way past the Foundry and toward the Den. Paz's shoulders were set back, chest puffed out, and he moved as if they were on a bounty hunting mission. Halting outside the entrance, Paz rounded so quickly that Din threw his hands up defensively, uncertain if he was about to become the man's fixation while he saw red.

"Go in first. Ping me once you set eyes on him. If I go in, there will be no doubt why I'm there," Paz handed over a small comlink. He didn't need to say the name of the person he was referring to. Din was blatantly aware that they were there for Hyvhast. 

Taking the comlink, Din nodded and stepped by him, entering the Den. Set down a few steps in another dome shaped building, the lighting was dim and most was procured by the hearth tables. Small, simulated flames leapt up in the center, horseshoe shaped benches surrounding tables where various mandos put their black ale. A rambunctious group was collected to the far right, his eyes immediately finding the earthen brown armor of Hyvhast which was accentuated with moss green stripes. He was tall and lean, about Din's height, though not as broad. Caught in an animated conversation, Din slid over into a table just flanking to see what it was they were saying.

"So you're not with her anymore?" Mirrair asked, a mando in dusty orange beskar'gam. 

"Kriff no! Look, she's a great hunter and has _mandokarla_ , but she's got the body of a 12 year old boy. Hard to tell beneath the armor. Was a huge turn off," Hyvhast announced, immediately met with an awkward silence from his companions. "What? You guys think I'm wrong?"

"Well, she's Sephi, isn't she? Don't they, um, age differently?" Loah was a female mando in tan armor, a few black swirls decorating her helmet. 

"If she's got _mandokarla_ , what does it matter if she's flat-chested? You think you're going to find a female mando with a rack here? We're all athletic," Jiabe spoke up, just as affronted as Loah, crossing her arms over her cuirass defensively.

"There's not only that," Hyvhast backpedaled quickly. "She had there weird gold marks all over her skin - almost like tattoos, but they glowed-" Din pressed the comlink, not willing to listen to the bastard detail any more of his friend's body. Especially when his audience was also just as uncomfortable with the subject. 

"She's not human," Jiabe stood up, her voice rising. "Where is she? What did you say to her?"

Hyvhast jetted to his feet to meet her challenge. "She went running home. Couldn't take a little honesty."

Jiabe barked a harsh laugh. "Oh you're absolutely _shab_ . Did you really think that Paz wouldn't find out about this?" She jammed her finger in between where the sides of Hyvhast's armor met, hitting flesh. "Who do you think you are? Hunting a _vod_ and then laughing at her, talking to the rest of us about what is beneath her armor? I could give a womp rat's ass how much you supply for the Tribe. Not only have you insulted Clan Vizsla, but you've insulted ever _dala_ in the Tribe."

"Jiabe you're overreacting-" Hyvhast tried to placate her as if calling her hysterical was the right move.

It was not.

Jiabe's fist flew out, catching the man underneath his helmet and directly into his jaw. A sickening crack indicated that something had broken as he flew back, colliding with the back of the couch he had been standing in front of. " _Ni cetar'narir kay'shebs_ ," she threatened, stretching her fingers just as Paz busted into the Den, causing everyone's helmet except for Jiabe's to turn. 

"Hyvhast!" Paz howled, shaking the room with the boom of his voice. 

The mando only groaned on the couch, still dazed from Jiabe's hook. She had his collar now, dragging his sorry _shebs_ out of the booth and into the aisle where she dumped him to meet the Vizsla. "Think you're looking for this _jayc'kovid_. Might've stolen the first punch from you," she informed him, glaring down at Hyvhast as he started coming to. "Think I broke his jaw."

Paz was livid, but he did glance over at her slightly in confusion. "Wha-"

"He was talking _osik_ about your _vod_ . No one has the right to express what they see beneath the _beskar'gam,_ even if they do not like it. He affronted all dala in the Tribe by doing so and ridiculing her. But... he insulted Clan Vizsla first. If you wish to repay me for what I have stolen, I shall take it," Jiabe offered honorably, squaring up to him without fear.

" _Nayc_ ," Paz disagreed immediately. " _Vor entye_. Help me take him out back and we'll call it even."

Honor was pinnacle in the Tribe and as Jiabe had said, Hyvhast had been impudent to assume that betraying the nature of what was beneath the _beskar'gam_ \- something so sacred to all of them - with the addition of his audacity to remark about a lack of a chest, was highly insulting to other women who might be self conscious about their features. Din had never really considered it, seeing that everyone except for the Foundlings were in armor, but supposed that Jiabe was right. All the women, except for the retired and elderly, would be physically fit and might not have much of a chest. He'd never particularly found himself staring at Sena's iron heart. That wasn't what was attractive about her. 

Paz and Jiabe dragged Hyvhast out as if he were a bag of garbage, undoubtedly for another beat down before they'd dump his _shebs_ at the Med-Deck. His mind went back to the conversation and the fact that Sena had said Anaxian and not Sephi. 

"Want anything?" Voormi was behind the bar this evening, gesturing to the only thing they had on tap - black ale. 

"I've got a question," he proposed, receiving a nod from her. "Do you know what Anaxians are?"

"Anaxians?" she rocked back on her heels, tilting her lime green helmet as she hummed quietly to herself. "Race, I think. Anaxes used to be a planet before it got turned to rubble in an accident. Don't think it was much of an accident though. Empire was invading the planet."

_I snuck up on a stormtrooper and slit his throat..._

Those words echoed in his head, thinking back to their blade lessons years ago. Had Naboo been invaded by the Empire? He didn't really know much about what had happened all those years ago, being secluded on Vorp'ya without listening to the adults talking about the news. 

"What were they like?"

"Anaxians? Dunno. There were a few native races to that planet. One was reptilian and the other... I think they were sub-human. Can't say. They never traveled off planet, so it's likely they were wiped out entirely when the planet exploded," Voomri shrugged, polishing the counter mindlessly. "Do you want a drink?"

"I'm fine," Din pushed himself to his feet, thinking about the new knowledge. Was it possible that Sena belonged to one of these races? He didn't think she was Reptilian and if he thought really hard, she might've mumbled something once or twice about being a Sephi offshoot and not actually Sephi. Anaxian? Golden markings on her skin? She had markings on her helmet, he wondered if those were supposed to be in relation to what was on her skin. He felt his breath quicken in his chest, imagining beneath the flight suit for a brief moment, the glow of golden teardrops...

Chewing his lip he started for the edge of the village, trekking across the moonlit grass, over the hills and toward the pond shaded by the ancient tree. Cresting the last rise, he froze when she saw a small figure sitting by the edge, legs drawn up to her chest, chin of her helmet on top of her knees as her visor gazed out toward the water which rippled peacefully from a wind that swept down from the moors. The leaves of the tree rustled like breathy chimes, the breeze picking at the edge of her braid and sighing deeply. 

Sliding down the hill, he approached her carefully, as not to disturb her, but she sat up and glanced back. He could be stealthy when he wanted, but she'd always been the best out of their entire class. She could move soundlessly, despite how much equipment she was wearing. 

"Hey," she offered simply, turning back to the water to continue staring at it, diving back into her thoughts. 

Din padded up and sat down beside her, his own visor listing in the direction that she was looking. He wanted to tell her that Hyvhast was blind and an idiot. That he'd never deserved anyone as amazing as her. That he was getting his _shebs_ kicked by Jiabe and Paz. But he didn't. Instead, he just watched the way the moonlight refracted on the mirror surface and wondered what she might look like without any _beskar'gam_ on, wading into the water, the ethereal light playing tricks against her skin. Her hand was tan, he remembered that from when she'd challenged Aya; a deep, coppery tan. Paz knew what she looked like and had called her _mesh'la_. Those hadn't just been words of comfort, Din actually believed them.

"You alright?" he asked finally after a few minutes of blissful quiet.

Sena rolled her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "I'll get over it," she grumbled, the normal inflection of her voice returning. Din liked her voice, he always had found the articulate accent alluring. As she'd gotten older, it had gotten deeper and less whiny, replaced with a smooth alto, pleasantly curling in his ears with each word. He wished the one time he had heard it without the modulator, she hadn't been crying. 

He didn't bring up the subject, didn't pressure her to talk, he only sat there with her, lending her a sense of companionship that went deeper than conversing. After all, she had already told Paz and it wasn't his place to try and force the story out of her. Time dragged on, a soft sigh parting from her lips finally as she contemplated what had happened. Din's hand was in his pocket, thumbing the charm, before he pulled it out. The moonlight hit the beskar _Jai'galaar_ eyes strung on a leather strap. So many years in his pocket, polished constantly from the soothing manner in which he'd palmed it when he thought about his friend. 

"Sena-" he cleared his throat, freezing when she sat up to glance over at him. 

"Hm?"

"Paz wanted me to give this to you," he said stupidly, lifting up the necklace. "He said it might make you feel better." Maker almighty, why did he say that? Why couldn't he just tell her that he had gotten it for her? She was still recovering from what had happened with Hyvhast and while this felt like the right moment to give it to her, it also felt like the wrong moment to be honest as to why. 

She reached up, her gloves brushing lightly against his, causing his skin to tingle underneath as little electric pinpricks lanced up to his elbow. " _Jai'galaar_ eyes?" she muttered, finally taking it. "How befitting-" he could hear the wry smile in her voice as she rolled her shoulders back and cracked them, stringing the necklace around her throat, which was obscured by the collar of her armorweave.

His heart was thumping wildly, as if he were being chased by a mythosaur, while he watched it plunk softly against her durasteel heartplate. The length of the strap dropped it low enough to reach her iron heart. Turning it over in her glove again she shook her head wistfully. 

" _Kaysh mirsh solus_ ," she commented. "Not surprised. We Vizslas all have lonely brain cells. He could've just given this to me later."

Din chuckled quietly at her joke. The Tribe did joke lovingly about their nerf-headedness, but Clan Vizsla was well loved despite the teasing. They were a clan of admirable warriors, all of which pulled more than their fair share for the Tribe. "Seems it did do the job."

"Of what?" she tilted her visor back up, her voice reading as confused through his visor.

"Cheering you up," Din pointed out, smiling now.

" _Lek_ well-" she unfurled her legs and stretched her arms straight out above her head. Like a loth-cat in the sun, she shook out the tenseness in her muscles before keeping her legs kicked out, putting palms back on her knees. "Nothing for me to dwell on. Paz was right. Again." Hopping to her feet as if it were the easiest thing to do, she offered him a hand up. "Race you back?" The proposition was an old one, like they were little kids again coming to practice beneath the moonlight. There had been many times where Din had attempted to climb the tree with as much dexterity as her and had jammed his finger.

Gripping her forearm, he was wrenched to his feet, glancing up the steep hill. " _Elek_ -" they both bolted off, Din getting to higher ground before Sena. She wasn't far behind, closing the distance with her dark pine green cloak snapping after her like an angry bird's wing. They were beskar and durasteel javelins against the grass. Just as she had done when they were younger, she let out the strange sort of baying yip, which caused Din to trip over his own feet and go down hard in the grass. Rounding and absolutely howling with laughter, she clutched her stomach as he tried to untangle himself from his cloak. Before he could even say anything, she turned back around and continued - with her lead - back to the village.

Din thrashed before managing to spring back to his feet, but it was too late. He'd given her too much time and she had vanished into the night. Grousing to himself, he wasn't entirely upset that he had lost, pleased that she had recovered in light of the awful evening she'd had until that point. He wondered if the animal cry she kept making was from Anaxes.

**2BBY**

"And then a giant bird swooped down from the sky and gnashed its beak. _OMNOMNOM!_ " Sena roared, snapping her fingers to mimic a bird's impressive beak and digging it playfully toward the tummies of the Foundlings that surrounded her in a horseshoe formation. Her duties in watching the children had long since passed now that she was a fully fledged hunter and provider for the Tribe. However, she did like to stop by after missions and greet them with candy and treats she had picked up from whatever planet she visited. Usually the flavors and types changed, which always thrilled the little womp rats.

Giggling and squealing ensued as she tickled them, before they realized they could overwhelm her in one fell move. Tackling her to the ground, piling in a heap, she was pinned to the ground. Even if she'd finally stopped growing after all these years, she still was barely 45 kilos soaking wet. A dozen children were more than enough to take her out of commission. 

" _Ori'vod_! Where's our candy?" a gap tooth child demanded, as if she'd forget.

"Oh, I totally forgot," Sena betrayed whimsically, the children shrieking like _jai'galaar_ at her confession. 

"You didn't forget. It's right here," Zim held up the bag, now 15, and donning a helmet of his own. His lekku poked out from the modified bucket and he had painted it the same colors that Sena originally had hers - plum and dull yellow. "Back you beasts! I'll give it to you if you release our _Ori'vod_!"

The little zombies abandoned her, trailing after Zim who was on Foundling duty. Sena sat up, chuckling as he began tossing the candy, letting it rain down above them, distracting the little brats. 

"You spoil them too much," Din commented, having just entered the Nursery to see the war raging. Sena tilted her head back from where she was laying on the floor. 

"Oh _lek_ ? What have you got in that bag behind your back?" she challenged, snickering as he tucked it behind his cloak as if he were ashamed that she'd caught him bringing treats for the kids. "Nice to see you, _vod_. How was your hunt?"

Din trotted down to help her to her feet. She dusted her armor off, frowning at all the scratches and dents on it. Since it wasn't pure beskar, came with the territory. Needed a good repainting. Beskar was harder to come by now with the Empire still being a load of _osik_. "Not too bad. Nearly threw my shoulder out since the bounty was trandoshan-" he let out a soft noise, which she knew was a laugh, his modulator never really picked it up right. "And you? Seems the candy is a hit this time."

This time. The last planet she'd gone to she hadn't bothered to taste the candy first. If she had, she would have realized it was flavored like krill and squid. Yeah, she'd felt quite bad as the kids began spitting out the gummies and gave her the most reproachful looks. Since then, she always made certain to try the sweets before committing to buying a bag full. "Easy enough... Well, actually-" she drew in a long winded breath. "-Jace gave me a bit more trouble than usual. Was trying to keep me on Dadrus longer than usual. He's always flirted with me, but it was really strange-"

"Need me to give your Guild Master a stern talking to?" Din gestured to his blaster.

Sena gave a good natured laugh. Din had nearly become part of Clan Vizsla by this point. He was close to her brother and went on quite a few hunts with him. She preferred to work alone, since Paz was way too kriffing loud. Their rivalry, while still there, had turned into a deep friendship that she wouldn't trade for anything in the galaxy. It was different than Xivi and her other friends. Din just... understood. They didn't even have to talk about, there was comfort in the silent nights by the moon pool just contemplating their lives. "Oh, no. He's a good person. Just a chatterbox."

"You say that as if you're not," Din pointed out.

"I'm not when I'm out in the field," she grumbled with a petulant frown. Sena liked to believe she was imposing, mysterious, and intimidating when she went out - armed to the teeth and speaking in short sentences. Maybe not. She did talk to Jace quite a bit since she'd known him for years now and still thought he was cute. The man had tried a few times to convince her to sleep with him, but Sena wasn't about to mix work with pleasure. Bad for business. Not to mention she'd sort of taken a step away from that life for now, focusing on doing her job, and not repeating what had happened with Hyvhast. Even if she'd grown into her skin now, she still felt highly insecure about her Goddess Markings as Hyvhast had poked at them and asked her what the kriff they were. 

"What have you got for us, _Ori'vod_?" a child had taken notice of Din now, standing in the play area. 

Din pulled the bag out and opened it, crouching down to reveal little toys in the shape of little fish. Each was about the size of a child's palm and brilliantly painted. "They're-"

_BOOM!_

The Nursery shook, children screaming around them as they huddled close to the nearest armored warrior. Sena had several clutching her legs, trembling as their helmets snapped toward the door. Instincts kicking in, Sena whipped her head to Zim who dropped the bag of remaining candy. "Get the children to the back door, wait until our command to beeline for the extraction point," she barked, thrusting a comlink into Zim's hands before she slipped out of the grasp of the kids. Din was beside her, sprinting for the door as they drew their weapons.

The covert was consumed in absolute chaos. Imperial ships were descending from the grey sky, a convoy of troopers having already landed and prowling through the streets. They had been taken by surprise, Mandalorians quickly making their stands and barking orders in Mando'a as they tried to grab onto a semblance of cohesion and shake away the confusion. This only took a few minutes, as they were all trained in military tactics and how to react in situations like this. There was a strict set of instructions ingrained in everyone's mind from Foundling to Elder.

Trainees or _Vod'ika_ would rally up the Elders and Foundlings. The youngest hunters, beneath the age of 21 would act as escorts and leaders, taking leash on their biggest ship the Cabur. Once the young and old were on the ship, they would get into hyperspace while the remainder of the Tribe protected them. Both Din and Sena were older than 21 and thus would act as soldiers on the field to protect the future of the Tribe. 

Her blood rushed, the sight of the stormtroopers bringing back the memories of Anaxes, her heart pounding steadily like a war drum. She'd murder them all. Kill them, revive them, then kill them again for what they'd done to not only Genmaris, but now the Tribe. The shootout began, they needed to get around the back of the Nursery and clear the path for Zim to escape with the children. Raising her pistol, she shot the nearest snow white soldier in the face, aiming purposely for his eyes. She could wield a rifle or shotgun now if she pleased, but she'd always liked the pistol better. The years of practicing only with the sidearm had made her a spectacular shot. In a close combat arena like this, Sena was in her element. 

" _Hukaat'kama!_ " she called to Din, drawing Cu'Sith and Pog-Sticker. 

" _Oya_!" he shouted back between the ringing of blaster fire and explosions. 

She had never forgotten the way they had spilled blood on the elas stone. The blood of a peaceful people who lived in the forest. Or the way she'd walked through it barefoot. Moving like a dervish, she dashed forward with primal rage, the curve of her swords - now beskar - reaving through the plastoid armor as if it were made of butter. They were slow, sloppy, and weaker than the soldiers from a decade ago. These were not clone troopers. Nor did they speak Mando'a. Grinning at the realization, she ducked gracefully, cutting the soleus on the back of the trooper's exposed calf. She heard a cry, watched him stumble forward, and then beheaded him. 

Her vindication was not uncommon amongst the Tribe, just one of the most brutal and bloody. She spotted her brother letting off his heavy blaster, mowing down troopers. Despite how well they seemed to be doing, it all came down to supplies. How long would it be until they ran out of energy and ammo? Before a tidal wave of white snow weathered them down in a blizzard that they couldn't dig themselves out of? They had to flee, because there were several more dropships coming. But most importantly, the children needed to escape.

She sliced down a few more troopers before racing back around the Nursery, Din covering her as they began clearing the path for the children. The ships were stowed beneath ground, in a hangar that would part the grass and open. They had been on Vorp'ya for many years now and continued to upgrade their home to make it more difficult to be discovered. Didn't seem to matter now. Pulling her comlink, she spoke briskly in Mando'a, " _Bring them out. We're clear for now_."

" _Roger_ ," Zim answered, the door opening. Lined up and hands linked, the children had also been trained on what to do. They were to stay together in a chain, holding onto the leader, which was Zim.

Other trainees had begun posting, fleeing the main fight to help keep the path to the ships open. There was no time to feel the pride of their unflinching resolve, but the kids were doing what they were trained to do. Despite how loud, how terrifying it all was, the young Mandalorians spoke in hand signals, bringing up the rear before entering the bunker entrance that led down below to the ships. Zim disappeared and Sena rounded as the last of the Elders were escorted below. Her eyes trailed back up to see how many ships there were, horrified as she and Din took up defensive positions around the hangar doors. This would be their last stand area. She wished she had the time to retrieve her traps from her home, but this was a surprise attack. 

Eventually, the rest of the Tribe began to fall back to the hangars, the first ship, the _Cabur_ departing with the children and elderly. Sucking her teeth, she hoped there would still be enough time and coverage for more of them to escape off planet. But as she watched, she grit her teeth, wanting nothing more than to kill than hide. That's what would happen after this, they would hide away again. The number falling back was pitiful and Sena's heart plummeted in horror. Paz was dragging their _buir_ beside him, some - but not all - of the injured fleeing into the tunnels. They weren't going to be able to escape, not with this many drop ships coming in. 

"Look!" Kedth pointed toward the sky, ships zooming down to meet the Imperial ships. Who they were, she had no idea, not until they started to jet out of the droppers with jetpacks. Sena had never been so happy to see foreign Mandalorians as she was now, choking out a thankful sob. Continuing to fight through the avalanche of stormtroopers, the ceaseless flow of them started to weather down, the verdant grass spattered with red, downtrodden beyond the point of recognition. 

The other mandos were beginning to approach them, thanking the Maker that someone knew about them and had come to their support. A tug on the back of her cloak made her turn, the weary smile disappearing immediately when she saw the terse line of her brother's shoulders. Panic set in, replacing the original thrill of battle, remembering that her buir had been injured when he arrived. Stomach churning, she sprinted after him, down the stars and to where the injured were being tended. Her eyes stretched wide, watching the blood pool beneath her adopted father from a gash in his side where the heartplate did not meet. 

Collapsing in a heap beside him, she pressed her gloves to his wound in a futile attempt to staunch the flow. He had lost too much and the majority of the bacta had been taken with the Foundlings and Elders. "No! You can't! Not you too!" her voice betrayed her, cracking as she saw the visage of her papa turning around, the golden lightsaber illuminating his hands as he marched to his death. Hux had become her father, the man that had finished raising her and in every way, her papa now. Everything that she had become was thanks to Hux, his steady hand, his temper, and his love. 

"Stay strong, _cyar'ika_ ," he muttered, voice distant and fading, cracked and weak. "I'm so proud. So proud of the warriors that I raised."

Paz was beside her now, fallen to his knees as they had their final moments with their _buir_. 

"You know... the place, Paz. Sova's _beskar'gam_ ... my _beskar'gam_... inheritance," he was struggling to talk now, his chest rising and falling shallowly, a soft groan parting his lips beneath his helmet. Paz leaned forward, removing it so that they could look upon their father, see the light in his icy eyes. Pale blonde hair was striked with grey now, the faint line of a golden beard against his jaw. His lashes were heavy, fluttering open just enough gaze at them, a faint smile gracing his features. "Love you. I love the both of you."

A primal, animalistic cry escaped her as Hux closed his eyes for the final time. Paz leaned against her, pressing her face into his pauldron as she sobbed as hard as she had when she was a princess fleeing Anaxes. Maybe even harder. She couldn't hear anything but her own misery. How many people would die around her that she loved? All because of the Empire. This was the Empire's fault! Her hatred redoubled, unaware that she could hate something even more and with every fiber of her being. They sat there on the cold floor, grieving for their fallen _buir_ and for the others that had lost their lives in the assault. Hux was not the only one.

Amongst the fallen was Aya, Vowr, Xaevo, Vhic, Bhone, Crehl, Khaan, Durr, the Smith, and Drold. Their bodies were lined up in the hangar, resting in their eternal vigil, going up to Manda. Despite the honor it was to fall in battle, Sena couldn’t help but feel as if it had all been a waste. So much training, so much love in the Tribe and the Empire tried to smote them from the galaxy. They hadn’t done anything. They had kept their noses out of anything Imperial. Not anymore. Sena wasn’t going to let them walk away from this.

“Sen’ika,” Paz was just as hoarse as she was, but they were standing in the _Kote._ “What _buir_ was referring to was his _riduur_ ’s armor. My mother-” he opened a panel to reveal the full suit of plum _beskar’gam_. “He always intended for you to inherit it one day. Just as you inherited her helmet.”

Sena gazed at it, all beskar, and in need of a good repaint. Her fingers slid against it, the feminine curve of the heart plate, the ensemble of pauldrons, cuisse, and greaves. The vambraces were missing and when she glanced at her own arms, she comprehended why. She hadn’t realized that Hux had given her Sova’s vambraces after her Second Trial. She had just assumed that there was beskar to spare for the newest hunters to forge their vambraces since they were so important. Licking her lips, she tilted her visor up toward her brother. “The other mandos here-”

“They came from Mandalore. They are looking for help. The Empire is attempting to take the smaller planets in the system first before attacking _Manda’yaim_.”

“I’m going,” Sena decided without hesitation. “I’m going to fight.”

Paz’s shoulders slumped slightly, the defeat of losing their father and now the idea of losing his sister too heavy for even his broad, masculine figure. But he did not try to convince her otherwise. “Too many died today. They will need guidance-”

“ _Ori’vod_ you don’t need to explain to me why the Tribe needs you. I know they need you. I do not think any less than you, but… you understand why I must go,” Sena was picking up the armor now, beginning to replace her durasteel with Sova’s - no… it was hers not by right. “Twice now. _Twice._ Only this time I can fight. I can help. I will not turn my back on another battle with them. Not now. Not ever again.”

“You will bring much honor to the Tribe,” he announced, but he was choked up, grabbing her and thrusting his helmet against hers. There was an unspoken acknowledgement, the fact that they both knew that Sena probably wasn’t coming back. 

“I will keep in contact with you if I can. I’ll send transmissions to the _Kote_ ,” she promised, the words hollow on the back of her throat as she said them. “ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ori’vod_.”

“ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ,” he returned. “You better come back. I need nieces and nephews running underfoot one day. With those stupid pointed ears just like yours.”

Sena barked a laugh that was halfway in between a sob. After shedding her durasteel armor, mismatched, she embraced her brother once more before heading down the dock. The hangar was a makeshift base of operation as the injured were tended and the other Mandalorians commented about how the planet was going to be overwhelmed soon. They needed to pick up and leave immediately. The Tribe was unwilling to help, picking up the fractured pieces of their people, weeping for those who were now marching. Legs churned mechanically, she glanced over at Din as he bowed before his _buir_ who was just as still as her own. Lower lip quivering, she decided to say her farewell to her friend. 

Placing a hand on his back, she crouched beside him, his visor snapping as he tensed immediately. It took him a moment to see clearly, to finally see that it was her. And then he glanced down at the plum _beskar’gam_ and eventually back up to her visor. “I’m leaving,” she told him calmly. Such a strange calm, like the eye of the storm before the hurricane hit. “I am going to fight for _Manda’yaim_.”

Din did not speak. She had long grown accustomed to his silent contemplation. He wasn’t daft, he was just as quiet as he had always been. “You’re leaving?” But there was too much grief, too much confusion for him to understand properly that evening. 

She nodded slowly. “I can’t turn my back on the Empire again. Not when I can fight against them. I will be joining our _vod_ in the coming battles,” she announced. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

Din stared and she didn’t know if he were in shock or if he were just being his normal, reserved self. “When will you come back?”

A shaky smile formed beneath the cover of her bucket. “We’ll meet again. Even if that is marching in Manda’s halls,” she promised, standing up. “Take care of my brother, please.”

“Sena-”

“I have to go. _Ret'urcye mhi_.”

**9ABY**

Maybe we will meet again. Din had clung to those words in Mando’a for so many years, desperately hoping that the visage of his favorite _vod_ would pop back up, insult him, and maybe toss a middle finger in for good measure. Never happened. As the years weathered on, one becoming two, becoming four, becoming _five_ , he had started to lose hope. Everyone had heard about The Great Purge and the decimation of Mandalore. He didn’t like to think like this, but he expected that was probably where Sena had died. His thoughts tormented him, how he’d been too choked up with everything going on that he hadn’t even been able to tell her how he felt. Watching her turn around in mismatched _beskar’gam_ before walking away with the foreign Mandalorians. He hadn’t told her that he loved her and now he’d never be able to. Paz still believed she was coming home, but after more than a decade, Din was convinced otherwise. The war was over. If there was any hope that Senaar Vizsla would return to the Tribe, it would have been four years ago.

The loss gouged at him deeper than he thought it ever could. His original comfort around the Tribe faded, replaced with the sorrow of seeing the Foundlings, remembering how she used to play with them, bring them candy, and tickle the life out of them. Walking through those empty, sewer halls in Nevarro, he was a shell of armor with nothing but a ghost inside. Provide. That’s all he did. He provided for the Tribe as he always had, leaving for long bouts of time and returning to drop off the supplies before going out again. This had become his typical routine, ignoring the other Mandalorians until he’d all but estranged every single one. Paz had been the first. The Vizsla’s insistence that Sena was still out there was so misplaced and gut wrenching that Din couldn’t stand to be around him. _She was dead._

He thought back often to their peaceful upbringing on Vorp’ya and of all the things he _should_ have done. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and if Din had another chance, he would have told her how he felt back when he first gave her the _Jai’galaar_ necklace. Even if she still insisted on leaving come the demise of their covert, at least he would have had those years with her. To take care of her, to love her, to _kiss_ her, and to make her feel as if she were the most _mesh’la_ creature in the universe. He was haunted by his memories and his yearning, so it was easier to turn his emotions off. Even at all these years, he could still hear her stupid howling in the moonlight, her guffawing, and her cultured, articulate accent. What he would give just to hear her again, to listen to the hum of her rich voice as he fell asleep.

Din Djarin was a brokenhearted man with little to live for. He’d been like this for a while, trying to carve out the rest of his 20s amongst Malk’s crew to find a little lust for life. Worked for a bit, but Xi’an was a cheap version of Sena. Her expertise with blades, while adept, still wasn’t _as_ adept as Sena. She also had a piss poor attitude. After that, he’d stopped trying to date, because it was always a comparison and his memories warped - placing Sena on a pedestal and forgetting how goofy or stupid she could be at times. 

He’d dropped the Mythrol off before heading down below to the covert. Wasn’t often that he felt like lingering down there for more than a day, but he went there anyway. He had a small set of quarters that collected dust. The _Razor Crest_ was his home for the most part, away, quiet, and transportable. Still, he kept some meager supplies in his apartment. Which, you couldn’t really call it an apartment. It was just a recess built into the sewers that was large enough to fit a table, a small kitchenette, and a bunk. All of which were stuffed like tuna in a can with barely any room to move. This was not Vorp’ya where they had large _karyai_ in each house. Punching the code into the door, it puffed open, and his visor shifted to the almost darkness.

Stepping in, his head cocked, staring at the small light in the corner that was on. He’d not been in here for months. Why would a light be on? Cold metal pressed to his throat, a soft _tut_ escaping his captor’s lips. “That was very careless of you.”

Din almost threw up at the sound of the silken voice, spinning around and throwing the Mandalorian against the wall. They moved lazily, allowing for themself to be captured as he pinned them against the wall. The armor was the wrong color, not green and not mismatched as he had last witnessed it. Instead, it was a dusky grey-blue accented by stripes of ashy black, burnished to the point where it glimmered magnificently even in the dull light of the tomb-like room. The helmet was painted with strange markings, akin to those patterns on a loth-wolf’s face. Emblazoned on the left pauldron was the rebel insignia - no, it was the _New Republic_ insignia now. Whereas on the right, where the _aliit_ marking went was the trademark _Jai’galaar_ eyes of Clan Vizsla. Several blades, a midnight blue cloak, and a relaxed confidence that set his teeth on end _as if_ she hadn’t been gone for so many years and this was a mischievous game of tag around the village where she’d managed to sneak up on him again.

“Sena?”

“Huh, where?” she glanced around, the tuft of her dark braid coming into view as she mocked him. 

“But you-”

“Dead? Missing? Gone marching such a long time ago?” she filled in impishly.

“ _How_?”

“I fought and we won,” she said as if it were that simple. “I told Paz to keep you updated with my whereabouts. I thought he would have.”

His stomach sank and he released her. Din had estranged Paz, sick of hearing that Sena was alive without any proof. He had believed that the man was in denial over his sister’s death, but here she stood, in New Republic glory. “The war has been over for years,” he found the chair at the small table, falling into it as he tried to rationalize what had happened. Everything was crashing down around him, his head aching just as much as his heart as she stood there, sheathing her blade and cocking a hand on the hilt.

“War might’ve been over, but I still had people to track down and kill. There’s still a lot to be done, but I knew it was finally time to come home,” she sat down across from him, clasping her hands together as she propped her elbows on her legs and sighed deeply. He saw the necklace he had given her swing forward from her iron heart. “There’s still remnants out there and I did everything in my power to work on killing every last one of them.”

He believed that. “I-” he was overwhelmed, all those pent up emotions, all those things he’d wanted to say but assumed he would never get the chance bubbling up to the surface. Originally, he would have given anything to tell her how he felt and now that he had the opportunity, the back of his throat felt so incredibly parched. “I missed you,” he said finally, cursing himself for not saying the other words, but it was a start. His emotions had been shoved into a tiny box, locked up and he’d thrown away the key years ago.

“Missed you too, _shebs_ ,” she snickered, but despite the humor in her voice, he could feel… something else.

Silence settled between them, but not the typical silence that they had found comfort in when growing up. No, this was deeper and more profound and distinctly uncomfortable. His heart was hammering in his chest and he wondered why she had approached him like this. She could have just greeted him in the Foundry where he’d been earlier. 

“I can - uhm, come back later. I know you just got back from a hunt,” she offered, standing up.

Din flew from his chair, unwilling to let her slip away, to let her go a second time. He caught her hand, holding it between his gloves, staring at the detailing in the leather and the seams. Heat blossomed in his throat, grinding his voice as he spoke, “Don’t.”

Visor tilting up toward him, her head listed slightly to the side where she gazed at him, questioning. “Are you certain?” she asked tenderly, her inquiry holding much more depth.

He ran his hand underneath the collar of her flight suit, brushing the edge of her helmet, before coming down to grip the spot between the pauldron and heartplate where flesh was instead of armor. Grip tightening, his chest constricted slightly at the feel - the _real_ feel of her beneath his gloves. Emboldened by her leaning into his touch, Din released her hand and slid against her hip, hot flames of desire licking his body and causing him to shudder at the merest touch to her fully armored frame. He looked back to her, wondering if this were permissible, if he was allowed to do this or if he had overstepped the boundaries of their friendship. That’s not what he wanted and he wouldn’t make the same mistake of doing it again.

“Din,” it had been so long since anyone had actually called him by his name. “I know it was you who gifted me the necklace and not my brother. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was afraid.”

“ _You_ were afraid?” she poked the bear, her voice absolutely astonished by his confession.

“I was afraid to push you away and it didn’t matter in the end. I lost you to the war,” Din answered. “After what happened with Hyvhast, I thought you wouldn’t be-”

“Interested? Dank farrik you think too much,” she grumbled warmly. “If there was anyone in the Tribe that I actually felt comfortable being myself entirely, it was you, Din. I just assumed you had never thought of me like that. I mean, I was sort of annoying.”

“Sort of?”

“ _OK,_ I was very annoying.”

He pulled her closer, her hips to his now, grinding up against her slightly. The touch made his skin dance, pulses of lightning lancing across his body as he let out a soft, trembling sigh. “Let me-” he started, voice cracking at the very idea of what he was about to offer, “-take care of you. _Please_.”

“Five minutes and I’ve already got you begging? You’re a changed man, Djarin,” Sena teased, but she hadn’t pulled away. Instead she leaned into him, pressing against his growing hardness, letting out a breathy huff which crackled in her vocoder. “I just-” she cleared her throat, aroused, but also worried. “Since Hyvhast, I never-”

Din groaned at the idea. Sena having been entirely alone during war, focusing on her hatred for the Empire rather than satisfying herself. The heat between his legs twitched more, which was pushed against her. If she felt it, she said nothing, only staring up at him with her palms against his red durasteel armor. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, dragging the pad of his thumb against the collar of her shirt, exposing her copper throat. Tilting her head back, he saw the faintly glowing marks, like tiny golden dew drops that ran against the hollow and disappeared beneath the fabric. Even that small bit of skin was more than enough for him. “ _Mesh’la._ ”

“I trust you,” she whispered, handing herself over entirely as he ran his fingers down her hips, and picked her up. 

It all felt like a dream, one he’d had many times before, but one that he’d never been able to place. Hands gripping her ass, he could feel the well sculpted muscles, the definition of a honed warrior, and her quivering in his palms. He set her on the bed, throwing his gloves off as if they were offensive, pressing his helmet to hers in an insistent, belabored keldabe kiss. Stars, he should have done that when they were young and not for the first time now. Stripping her armor, piece by piece, he slid the fabric down to expose her gorgeous skin. Whatever Hyvhast had said was wrong. Ripping it down he exposed the breast band and more of the dazzling markings, so _many_ of them. She was slender, more than most humans, but he didn’t think she was shapeless. Lanced by scars from her years, her skin was smooth, pebbling beneath his calloused fingertips. Narrow waist, stomach punctuated by the line of her muscles, the bottoming of wide hips which disappeared beneath her belt and trousers. 

His eyes traced the markings that she’d been insulted for, the way they trailed down her throat, danced against her collarbone and shoulders, curved beneath the bra and were obscured from his prying gaze. “Can I?” he entreated, aware that she might still be self conscious about it all and the last thing he wanted to do was push her away. He watched her swallow hard and nod. Hook by hook, his fingers trembled, before he dropped the fabric and exposed more of her to the dry, mild air of Nevarro’s underground. Small, soft breasts greeted him, not enough to fill his palms, but befitting of her natural frame, dark maroon nipples puckering as he grazed one, watching in intrigue as they stiffened into small peaks, so pretty and perfect.

“Din, I-” she warbled quietly, the original confidence disappearing in an instance and it broke his heart hearing her like this.

“ _Mesh’la,_ ” he repeated with stern insistency, cradling her breast tenderly. “So fucking perfect-” the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he meant every one. 

She let out a soft moan, leaning into his hand.

He traced circles around her skin, chasing the golden marks against her warm flesh, watching as each tiny movement sent chills across her body. Resting her against the bed as he followed the teardrops that cradled her breasts, he wondered how anyone could have found her unattractive. The beautiful copper of her skin, the contrast of the soft marks that had an ethereal hum as if the sun itself had dripped golden fire and graced her with its light. Finally, after minutes of wandering her upper body, he undid the buckle to her pants, discarding it to have her trembling slightly in just her underwear. Just as his hands had told him earlier, she had full legs, years of stealth and crouching, her ability to jump as if she were a nexu, and to land gracefully from extreme heights without injuring herself. The curve of her hips bottomed out and Din was entransed, caressing her ass, finding more of the golden marks as they flanked the outside of her leg and burned a wake to the tops of her feet. 

“I-I dreamed about this,” he told her, resolve crumbling as his index fingers glided down her stomach and against the hollow of her hip. He’d been quiet for decades, resenting himself for his silence. “If I ever saw you again, what I’d tell you. Wh-what I’d do to you. Was always so afraid to push you away.”

“What’s changed now?”

Din laughed at her question, the same soft laugh that fizzled out through the vocoder, not quite being picked up properly. “Nothing changed. Not how I feel. Just… Circumstances. Regrets. Things I never said when I should have. That I-”

“Not yet,” she interrupted. “It’s been 10 years. Let’s enjoy this now and talk after. There’s a lot to talk about. But not now-” Not when he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Not when all he wanted to do was praise her and love her. Even if she wouldn’t let him say it just yet, he fully intended on showing her what their separation had done to him. He wasn’t inexperienced by any means, but it had been a long while, never feeling the urge to do more than palm himself for relief, often dreaming of how he’d remembered her. Now she was here, spread out on his bed against the woolen comforter, her chest rising and falling quickly as he flicked the edge of her underwear. 

It had been over 10 years and in his haste, the little box he’d locked and thrown the key away for, had burst open. He smirked at the irony of Sena being the wiser one for once, warning him to be careful of what he said, for they might not be the same people. Somehow, he doubted that. 

Pulling the underwear off, he drank in the vision of her nude aside from her helmet. Neither of them could remove it, not unless they exchanged _riduurok_ and she had been correct. There was much to discuss, like what had happened during the war and what their future might hold. _Their future._ Din had been living life day by day, never thinking of what might be waiting for him in one year or two or ten. Soft dark hair painted the top of her mound, fingertips cruising toward the bundle of nerves as she squirmed at the touch. He wanted to taste her, to feel her plush skin against his face, and to bite every since golden drop upon her skin as if he were a parched settler on Tatooine desperate for water. 

Finally, he drew his fingers beneath her legs, slicking them against her wetness, astonished by how wet she actually was. “All this for me? I’m beginning to think you liked me a lot more than you ever let on,” Din purred to her disdain, watching her jerk her chin up and expose the hollow of her throat. “Or that you’ve just been pent up from never being pleasured. Dripping - waiting for someone to take it-” he slid his middle finger in with ease, a soft yelp crackling through her modulator as her back arched. Despite her hourglass frame, she was still small and light boned, part of him worried that he’d not be able to do much more than play with her. 

“I might’ve done this sooner if I knew how much you talked,” Sena gritted out through her teeth.

He pumped into her, bowing over her and taking her breast in his free hand. Grinding his helmet against hers, he listened to the soft noises that the modulator wasn’t catching quite right, her back arching as he placed another finger in. “I can be quiet if you want,” he doubted it, but decided to threaten silence to see what she would do.

“Kriff! Please don’t,” she whined, her voice hitching as he thumbed her clit. “Keep talking. I like it. I - _ahhh_ ,” he found the spot, pinching her nipple as he quickened his pace on her bud. 

“That’s it. Be a good girl, come for me. You like it right there, don’t you?” he pressed harder, a shudder overcoming her body as she gripped his heartplate. “Fuck-” his cock throbbed painfully, stealing his breath away for a moment as he listened to her titullating response to his stimulation. 

“Can you take it off?” she asked between her belabored breathing. “The _beskar’gam_ -”

He had been so riveted by her, snared in the trap that was her body, that he’d forgotten entirely that he still had everything on, weapons included. Only his gloves had been shed, fingers deep in her warmth and clutching her chest as he unraveled her string by string. Removing his hand, she whimpered at the loss of the pleasure, pressing her thighs together as Din ripped off his own attire without an afterthought. The years of being covered head to toe, unwilling to let anyone look at so much as his hand, barely a consideration as she laid out bare for him. He’d already made this decision a long time ago, piling the armor on the ground, chest heaving as he bent back down over her, picking up where he left off. 

Her fingers pushed against him, calloused pads in the dark hair on his chest, tracing the muscles of his pecs, between his breastbone before tracing down his stomach. Each gently, tentative touch as she came to remember him, but in a new way. Her palm flushed just beneath his abdomen, causing him to tense involuntarily, his own breath getting caught in the back of his throat as she ghosted over his pelvis. Distracted by her roaming hands, he fixated, hyperfocusing before he coated his fingers again in her heat and began working to prove to her what he felt. 

Sena’s skin was on fire, the rough fingertips of her childhood friend and rival causing her to make all sorts of noises she’d never known were stored in her. Paz had told her years ago, during their brief transmissions while at war, that the necklace had been a gift Din had been holding onto for years before actually giving it to her. The knowledge of that had made her blubber like a baby - because Sena cried all the kriffing time. As a kid, as a teenager, as an adult… The fact that the unpainted idiot had never told her how he felt, that weighed heavy on her shoulders for _years._ Because if she had known, she might’ve never gone to war. The original question her brother had asked had been ill placed. When she was 16, she wasn’t thinking of romance, but by the time the covert had been attacked on Vorp’ya… if Din had asked her, she would have said yes. Back then, he had basically been a part of Clan Vizsla from how often he had been around. While they pestered one another, the original terse rivalry had been replaced with a different kind of friendship. Both of them had been too afraid to acknowledge it and Sena was still battling with the idea that no one would ever find her body attractive. What if Din had thought the same? She wouldn’t have been able to hide her embarrassment if he had scorned her too when finally glimpsing what was beneath her armor.

She didn’t feel like that now as his helmet met hers and his hands were between her legs. For what felt like an hour he explored her, tracing the Goddess Markings on her skin, _praising_ her. And fuck did that turn her on. Hearing someone say that she was beautiful, that everything about her was absolutely perfect. His hot baritone in her ear, the slight fumbling of his words as they fell out of his mouth in the most uncontrolled manner she’d ever heard, losing all restriction behind closed doors. She’d never known it could feel like this, his expert fingers making her weak, the very warmth of his body so close to hers a comfort that she had so desperately missed. They’d never been close like this, but Goddess she had wanted it so badly after Paz had told her about the necklace. There hadn’t been any time for pleasure during war, but she did think about it in her dreams when she tried to escape the harsh reality around her. Dreaming faintly of the silver beskar helmet of her old friend, thumbing the _Jai’galaar_ eyes, and hoping that he might be waiting for her back with the Tribe. The very necklace was frigid against the hollow of her chest now, shifting as she moaned, the muscles in her legs tensing and her toes curling. 

“That’s it, _mesh’la,_ howl for me. Howl like you did by the moonpool, in the trees, _howl for me_ ,” he insisted, her alto cutting off as a wave of white noise and numbness began to edge at her being. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than push her helmet back into the pillow as the overwhelming pressure built up in her sent swells of ecstasy coursing through every fiber of her being. The cry came after, while her body was still riding the intoxication, like she was floating amongst the starlight without a ship, out of her own body and adrift as her eyes remained shut. “So perfect,” he muttered against her, removing his fingers as her bundle of nerves twitched, oversensitive and grounding her back to reality as she tried to suck in a few strangled breaths. 

“D-Din, that was-” she was stammering, unable to catch her voice as it ran away from her with the orgasm, making her sound pitifully tinny.

“Was it what you imagined?” he asked, his voice quiet again. 

“I didn’t know what to imagine,” she admitted dolefully. Sena _had_ touched herself before, but it had never felt that good. Someone else’s fingers gliding over her, the arousing words in her ears, the feeling of proximity which set her teeth on end and skin crawling in just the right way. It was lovely and it was real, not just a string of thoughts and what-ifs. No fear of being caught with her hands in her pants while trying to get some shut eye and relieve the tension in her shoulders - the obviously palpable tension from the stress of being at war for so many years. Her eyes listed down, noticing his massive hardness, somewhat terrified of being speared on the end of it. His fingers had filled her up and she could only fathom what his cock might do to her. “What about-”

“Do you want me to?”

She moaned gently, still taken aback by how careful he was being with her. They were both in their fucking 30s and she was the blatantly inexperienced one. Yet, here he was being so tender, despite how much his hardon had to be bothering him. Pleasure wouldn’t come without a bit of pain first and Sena, while afraid, knew that it wouldn’t kill her. Nodding, she reached down and grasped him, her fingers unable to fully encircle his girth. He was tacky from where his own wet fingers had fisted himself, her juice smeared along his length as she stroked him once. His helmet ground into hers more, a deep rumble in the back of his throat which she could hear in her ear. 

“Are you _certain_?” he challenged this time, spitting the words out in the same dark manner as he had when talking to her amidst his playing. “If you’ve never-”

“I’ve been hurt worse before, Djarin. I think I can handle a little temporary discomfort,” she retorted thinly, stroking him again, enjoying the way that he bucked against her. “I know _how_ this all works.” She’d just not experienced it. While she appreciated how careful he was being, she didn’t need to be fully coddled.

He brushed between her legs again, the gesture making her tighten when his fingertips touched her swollen bud. “You might think you know,” he started, positioning himself above her, jerking her hips toward his. “But I don’t think you do.” The weeping head of his manhood met her folds, lathing it in her wetness before he tested against her slightly. With one glance, she knew that he was going to absolutely split her open, her hips dwarfed by him and her sex quivering at the idea of trying to accomodate him. He began to ease against her resistance. She chewed her lips raw, trying not to cry out as he moved in and then out, coating himself and trying to make progress, centimeter by gruelling centimeter. Her own hands were clutching her breasts, pinching her own nipples in a futile attempt to distract herself. “Sena-” his visor tilted up. “You need to relax or this isn’t going to work.”

Relax? _Relax?_ He was literally stabbing her between her legs, how could she relax? Her chest heaved in short, panicked breaths before she scrunched her eyes shut trying to calm herself down. A hand rubbed against her stomach, soothing in small circles. This wasn’t at all like what she had witnessed on Tatooine. This was an agreement between two people who cared for each other. She let out a long exhale and loosened her grip on her aching nipples. Din pushed into her entirely, filling her to the brim, stretching her and breaking past the initial discomfort. While it still hurt a bit, she adjusted her hips and let out a quiet mewl as he froze, head bowed, buried to the hilt. 

“Dank farrik,” he cursed, gazing down at Sena’s copper body, his cock sunk into her warmth, her silken walls quivering around him as he gripped her hips. Even if she’d calmed down for a brief moment, at his words she’d tensed again and squeezed his cock. Din gasped, muttering in Mando’a to himself, absolutely blissed out in the moment. “S-so good. Yo-you feel s-so good,” he managed, finally finding the willpower to glide out and back in.

“Was it what you imagined?” she asked in a faint voice, her articulate accent raking electricity down his spine. That kriffing voice. He could listen to it all day, even if she was saying the most stupid, pointless things.

Din’s jaw slackened and he managed a choked laugh. “Better,” he swore, craning back down, caging her body beneath him as he moved with no insistency. With little intention of hurting her, their reunion wouldn’t be too impassioned. Even if she claimed she could take it - her telltale stubbornness shining through - Din knew that he might be hurting her a bit. She was impossibly tight, but her walls eased slightly as he brought his helmet back down to hers, savoring each gentle keen that escaped her throat. He placed a hand against her neck, fingers sliding through a few stray strands of inky hair, thumb tracing the hollow as he gave a little squeeze. He was already getting close, a combination of how long it’d been since he’d had sex, the fact that it was her, in addition to how perfectly she wrapped around his length, so pleasingly snug and firm, leaving little to no room for anything else. “You were made for me,” he insisted in his delirium, sailing along a growing high as his legs ached and he felt the building pressure behind his groin. 

She was hanging onto him, the golden marks on her skin winking as he glanced down at her, reminding him that she wasn’t quite human, but something so much more precious and coveted. A piece of the sun bundled up in beskar and joined to him as she threw her head back against the pillow again. Her walls fluttered around him, her whimper dying in her chest. 

“Coming a second time? Fuck-” he was being thrust precariously to the edge by her, wishing he could last a bit longer, but she was strangling his cock. “Y-you’re so good. So perfect. C-can’t believe I waited this l-long. I-I’d wait forever if it meant I c-could have you a-again.” 

She bleated at his words, continuing to strain beneath him on the edge of her own orgasm. 

Despite intending to be utterly gentle with her, he had to bring himself over. He pumped into her a good few times, the sensation absolutely wrecking him, as she cried out, digging her fingernails into the flesh around his shoulders. He painted her insides with his seed, clamped on so tightly that he hadn’t the strength or will to do it elsewhere. Sagging forward, he pushed the visor of his helmet into the pillow beside her, trying to collect the scattered fragments of his sense as he wondered when he’d ever had such a good orgasm. His body was still quaking from the effort, despite how slow they had been going, tanned skin slick with sweat from a combination of effort and the stale desert air. 

Finally, he disentangled himself and slipped down on the small bed beside her. He offered his arm, the cool beskar helm nestling into the crook of his pec, clicking lightly with the bottom of his own. 

_That’s going to get annoying,_ he realized, but put the thought aside. Mindlessly, his hand nestled against her waist and traced against it, comforted by her silken skin underneath his palm. Sliding over them like the moonlight on the moors of Vorp’ya, a comforting silence eased between them as they slowly drifted down from their high like a leaf slowly spiralling down from a tree’s most upper branch. He was nearly dozing off, her nails tracing lines in his chest hair, when she finally spoke. 

“We should talk.” 

Those words shouldn’t have frightened him, not when he was holding her against him, naked save for their helmets, having just fucked her, but they did. His heart fluttered, disconcerted and malcontent at the suggestion that there was really so much to talk about. “About?”

“What this means, what happened during the war, and where we go from here,” she answered simply.

They owed each other to fill in the gaps, and try to work things out. “Mm,” he hummed, continuing to caress her. “I don’t know what you’ve heard from Paz.”

“That you’re an absolute _di’kut_ ,” she informed him.

Din snorted. Of course Paz would still be mad at him, though he didn’t entirely blame the man. They weren’t on the best of terms at the moment. “Could say the same for him.”

“You’re both idiots,” Sena declared. “But I know it must’ve been hard to believe him after all this time.”

“Hard? It was nearly impossible. Why didn’t he just show me one of the transmissions?”

“Because they were coded specifically to be erased immediately after being opened,” Sena sighed. “I really could only send one at most every year or two. I was deep in Imperial territory and if those got intercepted, I could have gotten my entire team killed. I promised Paz I’d only send them to the _Kote._ ”

He should have expected that Paz would have offered evidence if he had it, but it still made him upset that he’d gone for so many years without confirmation - having to rely on the words of a man who was grieving for the loss of his entire clan. “What were you doing? I assumed the worst… that during The Great Purge you went marching-” his voice cracked, fingers tightening against her as he closed his eyes and tried to shake the terrible nightmares he’d recounted as he imagined her being killed over and over again without him there to watch her six.

“Barely made it out of there. Mandalore was absolutely ravaged. There were a few of us trying to figure out where to go, what to do… We didn’t feel right just throwing the towel in and giving up. Not after all the _vod_ we’d lost on Mandalore. So, we found the rebels and offered our help. I split off from the others as the rebels began growing their numbers. I did a lot of recon, recruiting, and then set up on Hoth. Lot of people joined, but a lot _of_ those people didn’t know their ass from their elbow. They had heart and they needed training, so I stepped into the position as teacher. None of them ever took a shine to fighting like Mandalorians, but they also didn’t have the luxury of extensive training. It was learn quick or die in the next fire fight-”

She continued detailing her years amongst the Rebels, how the operations grew, and she continued to help train until there were others who could take up the torch. Her talents were better used elsewhere, especially with the growing tension and necessity of an elite set of soldiers that could employ better stealth tactics. Her hatred of the Imps had never faded and she fell in step with being known as the best extractor of information. Whenever an officer was captured, she would be the interrogator, making certain they didn’t off themselves with their implants. They were tough nuts to crack, but Sena always had them singing for death, begging to be released from the revenge she took out on them. There was no pity in her heart. Not one single shred. 

With the war reaching a climax, she took boots to the ground, working alongside other soldiers and groups as a leader and front-liner. Her years of experience, tactical training, and warfare made her a prime candidate for commander and she went wherever she was needed. No wonder she had no time to reach out, she was constantly traveling and offering support to troops. There was no time to run-ashore, to lollygag, or to take a moment for herself. They were at war and she’d be damned if she slacked even for a moment, costing anyone their lives. Din’s heart burned with admiration for her sacrifice, her unflinching resolve, and dedication to the cause. With each story, each word, he felt his resentment for her lack of contact vanishing as if it’d never been there. She hadn’t purposely been estranging herself. Sena had been an important leader in the war and trying to reach out to the Tribe would’ve put it in danger. She had been protecting them with her distance and he’d given up on ever seeing her again because of it.

When the end of the war came, it did not mark a complete close. The Death Star might’ve imploded, but there were still many warlords looking to make a last stand and attempt to regroup forces to bludgeon the wounded New Republic. Again, she could not leave in good faith until she was quite certain that the New Republic could handle everything on their own. So she remained, helping track down and hunt the remnants, counting the heads on spikes as she considered what returning home might feel like. It would all be worth it. She’d gone that far and that long to protect her people, for the risk of the Empire swooping in and taking the Tribe once again to never happen a second time. Her own personal needs did not rival the needs of the many. 

Listening closely, he felt himself falling in love with her a second time. 

“So as you can imagine, it’s been a long awaited homecoming. Not to mention how glad I was to take this kriffing bucket off on _Dinhue_. Thought the thing was glued onto me at that point,” she remarked, rapping her knuckles against the grey-blue steel. “Not that I didn’t miss you, but I wouldn’t trade what I did for anything, Din. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I had to go. I had to because they destroyed my planet. And then did it a second time when they attacked Mandalore.”

“I understand,” he assured her. “If you had remained here, you’d be asking yourself constantly what might have happened if you had helped. You wouldn’t have been happy.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling back against his neck, the beskar chilling him. “Didn’t think the war would take that kriffing long, but… suppose it couldn’t be helped.”

“ _Ni vod’ika_ ,” he teased, tracing the golden marks on her collar.

“I was a commander,” she groused, but shifted abruptly, sitting up so that she had a palm on the pillow and was gazing down at him. “And when you say that, when you say _my-_ ”

“I mean it,” Din answered honestly. “ _My cyar’ika. Mine._ Did you think I would change my mind after you told me your war stories?”

“Thought I might be too cool for you. That you’d be intimidated-”

“ _Intimidated_ ?” Din snarked, laughing at the idea. He pushed her off, a soft huff escaping her mouth as she landed and he rolled on top of her. “Intimidated by you? After I had you soaking wet and on my cock, begging for me to talk dirty to you? You’re still the same _di’kut._ Arrogant, foolish-” he ground his hips to hers, his length beginning to twitch. “-so fucking dorky.”

“Alright, alright-” she complained, squirming beneath him. “I get it. My one brain cell did get a little swollen over the years. The rebels aren’t Mandalorians, so it was easy to stick out-”

“No, you’re wrong about that,” he palmed her breast, twisting her maroon nipple between his fingers, watching as it pebbled beneath his touch. “Despite being a _di’kut_ , you’ve always been special. You’ve always had a way with people. And you’ve always been an impeccable warrior. I was always jealous of that - your ability to play so nice with others, the way that they’d all look at you, how they all accepted you right away when you first arrived to the Tribe. The fact that Rhenx favored you more than me…” he huffed, letting loose all his discontent and the frustration he’d felt growing up as they fought for the lead. The growing attraction that had become more as he admired her talents, the ones she excelled in versus him, the fact that she was able to blend into all aspects of the Tribe. He’d always been reserved, unable to lead from the front as she did so naturally, surrounded by friends and hunters who adored being in her space just as much as he did. 

“You know, it doesn’t sound like you like me very much,” Sena chuckled, squeaking when he pinched her nipple. 

“You’re right,” he admitted, bending down to spread her legs again, thrusting his hardness against her quivering lower lips. She gasped as he slipped right back in. “ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_.”

“D-Din!” 

He moaned at the sound of his name being cried out, conscious to not be too rough, but still finding himself pumping into her at a steady pace. Her walls trembled around him, his palm seated against the small of her back, another flush to her mound as he drew quick circles around her clit. “I’ve loved you for such a long time. S-since we were kids. I-imagined h-having a family w-with you,” he was fraying around the edges, her sharp keening and noises hooking him toward the abyss once again. “E-each year you were gone. Felt like a piece of me died too. N-never telling you. Can’t do that again. Can’t let you out of my sight without letting you know how you make me feel. Hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed. Fuck-” his voice was breaking, the overwhelming urge to kiss her again consuming him. “Yo-you’re so good. Didn’t even dream you’d be this fucking amazing. _Mesh’la._ These markings-” he followed the crescents beneath her breasts. “-I want to taste every single one. I want to taste you. _I want everything_.”

Her back arched beneath his hand, walls clenching around him and pushing him into the sweet divinity of her warmth, the heat of her embrace, and the sharp intake of air before letting out a trembling cry. His head scraped her cervix, each thrust sending jarring shockwaves up his spine, from helmet to toe. For the second time that afternoon, he climaxed and was winded, losing all sense of knowing as he fell forward. His helmet felt awfully constricting, more so than usual as he panted, the breaths billeting back in his face. 

They both fell asleep, exhausted from their tryst.

Din woke up to the space beside him vacant of Sena’s warmth. Panic billowed in his chest, eyes snapping open as he wondered if it had all been some kind of illness induced fever dream and the exchange had never happened. But when he glanced across the small room, he saw her at the kitchenette brewing tea. Her long hair had been pulled out of the braid and scattered in obsidian waves all the way down past her ass. She had his shirt on, which was big and baggy, the sleeves pushed up, and the hem skimming the tops of her thighs. Even if her armor looked good on her, Din liked seeing his own clothing draped over her slender form. Her visor settled on him and she gestured to the kettle.

“Would you like a cup?”

“Mm,” he nodded, grabbing his trousers and slipping them on, glad that she was still there and that it hadn’t been a dream. Striding over toward her as she began steeping the leaves, none of which were his, he placed his hands against her hips and brushed into her, humming as he set his chin on top of her helmet. Eventually his hands wrapped around her entirely, her slender form leaning back against him as she huffed at him. 

“I can’t finish if you’ve got me like this,” she informed him. 

“Then don’t,” he muttered.

“I’m not wasting good tea leaves,” she snipped, worming out of his grip so that she had enough room to work. Once she had steeped them properly, she removed the leaves and added a bit of honey.

“Made yourself comfortable in here while you waited for me, didn’t you?” Din mused, aware that this apartment was rather scant in supplies.

“I take my tea everywhere with me,” she insisted evenly. “These are from Naboo.”

“Which you’re not actually from.”

“No, I am not,” she admitted. 

“Where are you from?”

“Paz told me you overheard that evening.”

“Course he did,” Din grumbled, wondering how much the siblings shared with each other. At this point, seemed like bloody everything. “Yes, I overheard that you were Anaxian. Although, I never knew much about Anaxes or the people who lived there.”

“A lot of different people lived there. I lived in a forest called Genmaris,” she informed him.

A forest. Now he understood why she had been so much more excited to see a tree than the pond. She was accustomed to running between branches and boroughs and had there been more trees, she might’ve leapt amongst them completely in her natural element. “What was it like there?”

“Peaceful,” she sighed wistfully, facing him and leaning back against the counter. “I was a brat-”

“Still are-”

She gave him a defiant head tilt before continuing. “Used to find ways to worm out of the castle all the time. Go flouncing in the woods and get all my nicest dresses ruined-”

“ _Castle?_ ” Din repeated.

“I was a princess,” she sounded so indifferent that Din was shocked into silence. “Oh, come on now. You said you overheard that evening after the farce with Hyvhast. Paz called me a princess.”

“I thought it was a pet name, not literal,” he croaked in disbelief. 

“ _Anyways,_ ” she continued. “Genmaris was very beautiful and rich with culture, vegetation, and the architecture was glorious. Metal wasn’t very often used for building. The castle was made of stone and wood.”

“The accent makes more sense now,” Din realized out loud.

“Hm?”

“Your accent, _princess_.”

“Don’t start that _osik_ with me. I haven’t been a princess for twenty-two years. That life was put behind me when I joined Clan Vizsla,” she snapped irritably, his lips curling up at her frustration. “ _Speaking_ of which, my brother is rather cross with you.”

“You think he’ll be more upset after he finds out I fucked you?” Din teased, quickly adding, “Twice.”

She slapped his chest - _hard_ \- taking her mug of tea and sliding out of his grasp. “Paz does like you. He was thinking of us as a match back when we were 16,” she sat down, crossing her legs, the hem of the shirt riding up slightly. “But you were too stupid to do anything other than stare.”

“You could’ve said something too, _cyar’ika_ ,” he took the other mug and sat across from her. 

“Anaxians don’t reach sexual maturity until their twentieth name day. And what that means, is that we don’t go through puberty until then. I wasn’t really thinking about that sort of stuff until we were older and even then, I was quite put off after what had happened,” Sena reminded him, lifting her helmet enough to take a sip of her tea. “I ended up dating because it felt like the right thing to do, since everyone else was.”

Din’s stomach shifted uncomfortably, horrified by what he was hearing. Not because he’d overstepped boundaries, but because Sena had been trying so hard to fit in and she had gotten burned because of it. Hyvhast’s stupid bucket appeared back in his mind. She had dated him because ‘it seemed right’ only for the mando to strip her growing body after constant pressure and coercion. No wonder Paz had been livid. He’d also felt just as upset, but Paz had known all these things those years ago. His sister was still an adolescent and Hyvhast had defiled her, laughed in her face, and then told others about it. Fortunately, the Tribe wasn’t as stupid as Hyvhast and Jiabe had throttled him for speaking out of turn. 

“And now?”

She glanced over at him. “Well, we didn’t quite date did we? Though circumstances withstanding, I wouldn’t take back any of what we did.”

He was happy to hear that, taking a sip of the tea, which was pleasantly floral with earthy undertones, a hint of caf, and the sweet bloom of the honey. “What are we?”

“Together, if that’s what you’d like,” she proposed, but quickly followed up. “Despite what you’ve said, I think we should get to know each other again. We shouldn’t be too hasty.” They shouldn’t exchange _riduurok_ immediately was what she was darting around.

Din would have right in that moment, but respected her request. Duly he remembered that he had promised Karga that he’d pick up the next big bounty soon, something about beskar being involved as payment. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her side after being reunited. But she had full beskar armor. He did not. “Together then,” he agreed. “You’re not going to tell Paz that we-”

“ _What!?_ ” she screeched. “Do I want your helmet bashed in? No! I’ll tell him that we’re courting. Again, he’s still rather pissed at you,” she cocked her head, setting the mug down on the table. “I know the years haven’t been easy for you. Paz told me that you’ve been living a half-life, not really engaging with the Tribe. Still pulling more than your fair share of weight, but a lot of our _vod_ aren’t too pleased with you. Din… Are you ok?”

He sighed, bone weary and not looking forward to this conversation. “The days were monotonous. I just fell into routine and… you were really the only reason I talked to most of the Tribe. Your brother tried to bring me back in and we got into a few fights over it. I thought you were marching away, so hearing him sound so foolishly hopeless about your return… I started to resent him. Which only grew as the years dragged on and he still hadn’t given up about you.”

Sena stood up, trotting over to him and wrapping an arm around his hot neck. “Well, you’d better apologize then, because who’s the _shebs_ now?” she pointed out, letting him lean into her chest, hooking his bicep around her waist before he tugged her onto his lap. 

“I am,” he grumbled, nestling his helmet into her collar. 

“Mm, you have changed a bit. Admitting defeat so quickly?”

“Only to you,” he frowned, sitting back up. “It’ll get better. _I’ll_ get better,” he assured her, touching his helmet down in a keldabe kiss. 

“Better? No, Din, you’ll _feel_ better. You’re not broken, just hurting. And I’ll be here for you to talk to. I’m not going anywhere now,” she insisted, pushing back against his helmet. 

He hummed in agreement, holding her close, savoring their proximity once again, clinging to the idea that he’d not be alone again. Truly, he’d never been alone as he was surrounded by the Tribe, but he’d estranged himself after the defeat on Vorp’ya. He didn’t feel hopeless anymore, but there were still many other emotions he had to come to grips with. “Do I really have to apologize to Paz?”

“ _Elek, di’kut,_ ” she flicked his helmet. “Better sooner than later, because if Paz finds out that you-”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him,” he scowled.

“If it’s going to force your apology out of you, perhaps I might casually mention it.”

“We won’t be exchanging _riduurok_ ever if your brother kills me,” Din reminded her lightly.

“Mm, would be such a shame. You’ll never find out what an Anaxian princess actually looks like,” she jested.

“If this part of you is any hint at what’s beneath the bucket-” he ran his hand down the front of the shirt she was wearing. “-then I know I’m in for the shock of my life.”

“Oh,” she huffed mockingly. “Can your heart take it?”

Din pushed her off his lap as she broke out into a fit of howling laughter. He’d missed that especially. “Still a brat.”

“ _Your_ brat.”

“My brat,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries in hopeless romantic*
> 
> I couldn’t stop myself - HERE HAVE IT.
> 
> follow me on tumblr @spc4eva
> 
> Star-Burned has been released for reader/Paz and is in the same universe as this fic (though it a little ahead of this timeline)
> 
> Also: Translations  
> ori'buyce kih'kovid - all helmet, no head (overdeveloped sense of authority)  
> mesh'la dala - beautiful woman  
> di'kutla - stupid, worthless  
> Hukaat'kama - watch my six  
> shab - fuck/fucked  
> dala - woman  
> ni cetar'narir kay'shebs - I'm going to shove my boot up your ass  
> shebs - ass  
> jayc'kovid - dickhead  
> osik - shit  
> Vor entre - I owe you a debt (or thank you)  
> Kaysh mirsh solus - his braincell is lonely  
> Oya - let's hunt, let's go  
> Manda'yaim - Mandalore  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you  
> Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye (lit. Maybe we'll meet again)  
> di'kut - idiot  
> Ni vod'ika - my little soldier


End file.
